A Thousand Invisible Threads
by Lenni George
Summary: Spoilers for any Rossi ep are possible and probable. Rossi/OC. Chapter 17 now up. Because Tracia asked for a new chapter! Thank you to all who keep reading and reviewing!
1. Lake House

"_**We cannot live for ourselves alone. Our lives are connected by a thousand invisible threads, and along these sympathetic fibers, our actions run as causes and return to us as results."**_

_**Herman Melville**_

He studied her, as she lay sleeping. The early morning sun, filtered by the trees, cast a scattered pattern of light across her sleeping features. He reviewed each detail, as if, despite their familiarity, he was seeing them with fresh eyes, her dark hair, flecked with the random strands of gray that she refused to dye away, her carefully waxed arched brows furrowed, as if she were deep in thought, the tiny mole that sat slightly off from the outer corner of her right eye.

He resisted the urge to wake her, wanting to hear her rich alto voice with its infectious laugh, or engage in one of the mind probing conversations they so easily fell into while laying in bed together. Talking, she liked to say, was one of the most powerful aphrodisiacs. And, in their case, he had to admit it was true. She was open and honest, and expected him to be the same. He found himself consciously trying to live up to that expectation and surprisingly, it got easier as time went on.

Looking back, David Rossi had to admit that the demise of his three marriages had something to do with the fact that he knew more of his unsubs that he did of his spouse. He was able to get into the hearts of the victims and the minds of those who victimized them, better than he was able to get into the hearts and minds of the women he'd married.

It wasn't that way this time around. Not that she'd agree to marry him, should he choose to ask. She'd long ago told him that she felt no need to be the fourth Mrs. Rossi; she didn't need to have that label to feel secure in their relationship.

He shook his head, wondering why he was wide awake, his mind working overtime, at 6:45 on the first Saturday morning in weeks that he did not have an active case pulling him into the BAU. Nothing, he decided, was going to make him get out of the warm comfort of bed.

Nothing, except for the plaintive whine coming from the foot of the bed.

"Roscoe," he tiredly said, as the English springer spaniel jumped up onto the bed, tail wagging. "It's Saturday…"

Ignoring his words, Roscoe licked his face.

"Dogs don't know what Saturday means," Juliana DeVitto, said, opening her eyes and drawing Roscoe's attention.

"I'm getting that impression," Rossi laughed as Roscoe licked Juliana's face.

"Yes, I love you too, Roscoe," she laughed, ruffling the hair around the dog's neck.

"Roscoe," Rossi laughed, "Leave some skin on her face." He sat up, "Guess I'll let him out, huh?"

"I'll be here waiting when you get back," she yawned.

She watched him while he pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. Feeling her eyes trained on his every move, he looked over. "You find something fascinating?"

A sly smile formed on her features, "Yeah, the fact that you can actually come back to bed this morning."

"And that's exactly what I intend to do," he agreed, as the dog barked for his attention. "I'll be back," he winked, leading the dog out of the room.

"_**The profoundest thought or passion sleeps as in a mine, until an equal mind and heart finds and publishes it."**_

_**Ralph Waldo Emerson**_

She was 11 years his junior, certainly not a lifetime of difference, but nearly a generation. It wasn't something he thought about often, but at times like this, the thought did cross his mind.

She stood at the stove, stirring a pot of Bolognese sauce, dressed in a pair of black track pants and a black long sleeved t-shirt that bore a skull and cross bones with the words, "Life is Scary" written beneath them. Her dark hair was pulled up into a high pony tail that bounced as she nodded her head in time to the music coming over his Bose radio.

It was the music that reminded him of the difference in age. She sang along, knowing every word to the Motley Crue song. Sure, he'd heard the song when it first came out, but usually only long enough to change the radio station. Back then, he was a young FBI agent, married to his first wife, trying to climb the ladder in the Bureau. Julie was a junior in High School; smart as hell, but into the whole hair band scene. He'd seen pictures of her with her teased hair and dark eye liner and decided that if he'd met her back then, he would have dismissed her without so much as a second glance.

"Excuse me, Mr. G-man," she began, pulling him from his thoughts. "I thought you said you weren't working this weekend."

"I'm not," he returned, walking over to her and slipping his arms around her.

"Oh really? You've got that profiler expression going on …" she teased.

He raised a brow, "Profiler expression? I wasn't aware I had profiler expression."

"You do," she went on, wry smile on her lips. "You get all deep in thought, your brows furrow and you purse your lips," She studied him a moment, "So, what were you thinking?"

"If you must know, I was thinking about you and that damned Motley Crue song."

"Uh oh," she laughed, "Is this going to be another "my girlfriend was a hair band groupie" moment?"

Rossi laughed with her, "Actually, it was, but you've managed to derail it successfully."

"Damn good thing," she returned, "Because I don't want you getting all reflective on me this weekend." She kissed him firmly. "Instead, you can stand there and listen to me talk about what an incredible day this has been."

He smiled, "So, start talking."

"Well," she kissed him again, "Let's see…it started when you came back to bed this morning…"

"That was my favorite part," he agreed, with a leer.

"You're such a male," she said, shaking her head, "Tell me you didn't enjoy spending the day around the house. We got to take Roscoe for a walk in the woods, cook up a big dinner…"

"Two Italians in the kitchen can produce nothing less than a big dinner," he quipped.

"True, but that's what freezers are for," she mused.

"At least we'll have something waiting for us when we get back here again. Hopefully, it won't be too long before we can work that out."

"It all depends on you, my dear. I own my own business and have hired competent employees to tend to my humble little book store while I'm gone…"

"Before you put the weight of our return to the Lake squarely on my shoulders, let's discuss the draft of your new book that's due in a month," he gently reminded.

"Oh, that," she dismissed, with a wave of her hand. "It's at the publisher's already."

Surprised by her admission, he studied her for a moment, "When did that happen?"

"I finished it while you were out in Los Angeles on that serial killer case," she shrugged. "I just holed up in my office until I finished those last six chapters."

"And I missed it," he simply said, wondering why he felt a strange sense of loss for not being around.

"David, you missed me spending a week without showering or seeing the outside world, eating Ramen Noodles and drinking entirely too much Diet Pepsi. You know what I'm like when I finish a novel. It's not pretty. I think I needed the alone time. I probably would have scared you off."

'It takes a hell of a lot more than that to scare me off," he laughed, willing himself to lighten up.

"We'll see what happens next time," she winked, "Now; I need to go drain the pasta before it turns into a big gelatinous mess."

For the second morning in a row, David Rossi found himself lying awake in bed, watching the sunrise. He thought about waking Julie, but they'd had a late night. She discovered the Monopoly game his niece and nephew left last time they stayed at the house. That and the rest of the bottle of Chianti from dinner turned into a playfully cut throat session of real estate trading that lasted into the early hours of the morning.

When they fell into bed, laughing, full of a heady buzz caused by the wine and the closeness of the day, they made love, slowly, playfully, something they hadn't been able to do since his return to the BAU. He'd jumped back into work with both feet and, truth be known, he really had missed it, although that wasn't what drove him back.

Rossi closed his eyes, willing the images of the Galen children from his mind. He warred with the guilt he felt for not wanting to let those memories intrude on this weekend.

"David?" Julie's voice began, concern clearly audible. He opened his eyes to find that her expression matched her voice. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," he lied, knowing she'd see through it. "Why do you ask?"

She gave him a soft smile, "I'm all for you holding me tight, but you've got a hell of a death grip on my arms."

"Shit," he tiredly said, relaxing his hold. "I'm sorry…"

"Did you have another nightmare?"

He shook his head.

"Then what is it?" she asked, moving so that they were face to face.

She was studying him, looking for an answer. He found her gaze un-nerving, but didn't avert his eyes; instead he leaned forward and kissed her.

"Nice distraction technique," she smartly returned. "Did you pick that up from the FBI handbook?"

"Works surprisingly well during hostage negotiations."

Julie smoothed the hair at his temple, and then caressed his cheek. Worry furrowed her brows and he hated the fact that he was the cause of that worry.

"I'm okay, Julie," he said, trying to reassure them both.

"I'm going to pretend to believe you," she softly said, allowing him to pull her back into his arms.

He held her close, resting his chin on the top of her head and closing his eyes. After a few moments of silence, she spoke.

"So, what do you say we just abandon the real world and move out here permanently?"

He smiled, recognizing the conversation they'd had many times in the four years that they'd known each other. "Do you think we could live off of investments and royalties, or would we need to keep writing?" he asked, playing along.

"I'd need to keep writing," she replied, "And I could really do it well out here."

"Could you, now?"

"Some of my best ideas have come to me while I'm sitting out back on the porch, waiting for you and Roscoe to get done killing birds."

"Hunting," he corrected.

"Hunting," she repeated.

"Tell me that wasn't the best duck you've ever had," he went on, feeling himself relaxing slightly.

"It's the only duck I've ever had," she returned, looking up at him, "You do know that I love you, don't you?"

Leaning forward, he kissed her forehead, "I love you, too."

"Now, think we can go back to sleep for a while? I know we need to go back to reality in a few hours, but I'm just not ready yet."

"Neither am I," he replied, kissing her softly. "Go ahead, go back to sleep."

She settled herself, so that her head rested on his chest. Within minutes, her body relaxed and her breathing slowed, telling him that she'd fallen back to sleep. Despite the fact that his body was calling out for more rest, his mind would not shut down. He knew he wouldn't be getting any more sleep this morning. Instead, he would lie, holding her in his arms and watching the sunrise.


	2. Repairing Damage

"_**. . . love from one being to another can only be that two solitudes come nearer, recognize and protect and comfort each other." **_

_**  
**__**Han Suyin**_

David Rossi sat in the large black SUV, looking up at the end row Victorian home. He knew he should go inside, but his body refused to move. He was tired, drained, emotionally spent, but on some level, he felt the peace and closure he'd been seeking for 20 years.

He had called Julie only once when he was in Indianapolis, shortly after checking into the Palmer Hotel. He was miserable and short to her, and despite her calm reassurances that she wasn't put off by his tone, he knew she was.

She'd borne the brunt of his angst over the past few weeks. He wasn't sure what he felt guiltier about, awakening her in the middle of the night with his nightmares or the way he'd taken to closing her out of his inner torment. Looking back, he thought he was doing her a favor by not constantly bringing it up. The problem, he surmised, was that wasn't the way she saw it.

He knew now that he must have been totally unbearable because by the time the anniversary of the Galens' death approached, she was encouraging him to revisit the crime, to take one more trip out there to see if he missed anything.

Of course, he went, not that any protest she would have made could have stopped him. He knew he had to go. This time, he closed the case. This time, there was an ending. This time, he could put it to rest.

Now, it was time to fix the mess he created on his single minded way to that ending. He only hoped that he'd be able to repair the damage he'd caused. The ringing of his cell phone pulled him from his thoughts. Flipping it open, he placed it to his ear. "Rossi," he barked.

"Are you going to spend the whole night sitting out in front of my house?" Julie's voice began, with no trace of malice.

"I wasn't sure you'd want me to come in," he truthfully said.

"Get your ass in here, Mr. G-man," she softly said, hanging up the phone.

Flipping the phone shut, he made his way out of the car and up the stone steps to her front door. As he reached the top step, the front door opened to reveal her standing in jeans and what he thought was one of his button front shirts. He paused on the top step, trying to read her, to gauge her response.

"Perhaps you didn't hear me on the phone," she repeated, "I said, get your ass in here."

He entered the house and as the door swung shut behind him, he pulled her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around him and they stood, holding each other, tightly.

"Julie," he began, pulling back to look at her.

She shook her head, "Don't."

"But," he protested, but she cut him off with a kiss.

"No," she simply said, "Just tell me this; did you solve it this time?"

He nodded.

"And, how are you?"

"Numb, relieved," he honestly said.

"I can see it in your eyes," she said, her voice soft.

"I'm sorry," he said, wanting to say much more, but unable to find the words.

She shook her head, pulling out of his embrace. "No…no apologies."

"I shut you out."

"You did."

"You've got every right to be pissed at me."

"I suppose I do," she allowed, walking into the living room.

He followed her, watching as she sat on the sofa. She was holding back, trying very hard not to show the emotions he could see bubbling beneath the surface. Normally, she didn't hold anything back; this response threw him off balance.

"Juliana," he said, using her full name, something he rarely did. "Talk to me."

"This case has been with you for 20 years," she said, putting great thought behind her words. "It's molded your thoughts, your personality, your relationships. You are who you are today because of what it's done to you."

"I am," he agreed, sitting next to her and waiting for her to continue.

"And now, it's done. You have closure."

"I do," he said, watching as she opened her mouth to say something further, but stopped. Instead, changing her expression to a fond smile.

"You look exhausted."

"I am. I think I could use a long hot shower and bed."

"We can talk later," she said, standing. "Roscoe's out on the deck. Why don't you go up and take a shower while I bring him in."

"Will you come up and lay with me?"

"Of course."

"_**Sanctuary, on a personal level, is where we perform the job of taking care of our soul.**__**"**_

_**Christopher Forrest McDowell **_

True to her word, she was waiting for him when he got out of the shower and slipped into bed. After turning off the light, they lay, side by side, neither speaking.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, breaking the silence of the darkened room.

"Who says I'm thinking," he returned, his hand wrapping around hers.

"You're always thinking," she returned.

"You were holding back downstairs," he said, simply.

"What?"

"You were holding back your emotions," he continued, "You were pissed at me, but wouldn't show it."

"What makes you say that?"

"Your body language, the amount of thought you put behind everything you said, the way you wouldn't meet my eyes…"

"I forget who I'm dealing with sometimes," she sighed.

"I can figure out what you're doing," he explained, "But I can't figure out why. That part, I need you to fill in."

She took a deep breath and released it slowly, then spoke. "This was one of the defining moments in your life and I doubt you've even begun to feel the effects this will have on you. Yes, I was pissed that you threw up that wall and closed me out. I know you think you were protecting me, and on some level, I appreciate that you did think of me."

"But?" he prompted.

"But, I thought you knew me better than that. I told you a long time ago that I am here for you, no matter what. You know me, David; I'm strong enough to handle it."

"I know," he quietly said.

"Do you?" she stopped, gathered herself, and then spoke again, "See, here's my dilemma. I stop and look at what you've gone through, at what the past 20 years have been like for you, and I realize that I have no right to be mad because you didn't stop and think of me. That's why I was holding back on you."

They lay in silence for a few moments, before he spoke again. "You're right, you know. I am still numb. I haven't digested the whole thing. I don't have that weight on my mind now, and it feels strange. Almost empty, but in a positive way."

"Did you talk to the children?"

"They're not children any more," he fondly said, "I did speak to them. I turned over the keys to their parents' house. Before we boarded the jet to come home, I called my lawyer to have him write up the transfer paperwork."

"And the bracelet? Did you give that to them, too?"

"I tried, but Connie, the oldest daughter, gave it back to me. She told me to hold on to it, to remember them by."

"As if you'll ever forget them." She rolled over and draped her arm over him, "You need to get some sleep." She leaned close and pecked his cheek.

He turned towards her, pulling her into his arms. His voice quiet, he spoke, "I did think of you. At night, when I was lying in bed, finally alone with my thoughts, I thought of you. I wanted to call you."

"You should have."

"I didn't want to wake you in the middle of the night. I'd done enough of that in person. You didn't need me to do it over the phone."

"I don't care where you are or what time it is, if you need me…"

He silenced her with a kiss. He was beyond talking, beyond listening, what he needed was physical closeness, passion, and then, sleep. She responded to his every move, echoing with one of her own, clothing was shed; hands and tongues explored, and finally, bodies were joined.

When they had spent their emotions, they lay, holding each other, in silence.

"What are you thinking?" she asked for the second time that evening.

"I'm thinking that I'm looking forward to getting on with my life," he said, kissing her softly.

"Good answer," she smiled. "Hopefully, you'll be including me on that journey."

"That goes without say."

"Good," she nodded, watching him in the dim light cast by the moon. "You're smiling."

"I am," suddenly struck by the lightness he felt. Memories of the past few days that he'd not allowed himself to revisit flooded his mind. Most prominently was Penelope Garcia's face, when he walked into her apartment. He laughed at the memory.

"Something strike you as funny?"

"I didn't get to tell you, but when I stormed into Garcia's apartment the other night, I discovered she was…romantically involved with one of the Analysts who works on the third floor."

"And just how did you discover that?" she laughed, "Did you catch them in the act?"

"In the shower, after the act," he admitted.

"Ouch, did you apologize for the interruption?"

"I had a full head of steam, it wasn't until after I left that I realized what I walked into."

"Did you freak the poor girl out?"

"And then some. When we got back to the office tonight, her boyfriend was waiting for me."

"Did he call you out?" she teased.

"He wanted to talk to me, man to man."

"And did he?"

"Yeah," he chuckled. "He told me that he was well aware of the Bureau's anti-fraternization rules, but that what they have wasn't just a fling."

"And what did you say to that?"

"I told him that there was a good reason that those rules were created, but, as long as it didn't interfere with either of their jobs, I wasn't going to concern myself with their private lives."

She turned on her side to face him, smart ass smile lighting her face. "So, tell me, what was the good reason that those rules were created?"

"There were several, actually," he said, turning to face her. "And I was one of them."

"You fraternized?"

He laughed, "I've done my share."

"Ooh, you cad," she laughed.

"The Bureau had a much different mind set way back when."

"I guess so. And what about now? Are you fraternizing?"

"Only with a fellow author," he returned in kind.

"Last I checked, there were no author anti-fraternization rules."

"God help us if there are," he sniffed. "I think we've broken them all."


	3. The Beginning of It All

"_**We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken."**_

_**Fydor Dostoevsky**_

David Rossi stood, off to the side, watching. Tonight was not his night in the spotlight, so he stood out of the center of activity, taking in the social interactions of the cocktail party guests, as they milled about, chatting, waiting for their turn to speak to the guest of honor.

Looking across the room, he spotted Julie. Tonight, was her night and she was the "guest of honor." Her publisher had thrown this cocktail party as an exclusive premier of her fifth novel. It was Julie's idea to turn it into a benefit function. She asked them to sell tickets and donate all proceeds of the tickets and each book purchased that evening to a local women's shelter. Seeing all kinds of positive PR for the publishing house, they jumped right on board with the idea.

He watched as she moved about the room with charm and grace, chatting with all of the guests, making it a point to speak to each individually, thanking them for their donations and their support of her writing. Dressed in a deep blue silk cocktail dress, she looked elegant and poised.

He smiled, remembering how she'd changed her outfit four times, tossing each dismissed dress onto the bed and staring at her reflection in the full length mirror with disappointment. He sat, on the bed, ducking each garment as it was tossed, listening to her harsh critique of her body. By the time she'd picked up dress number four, he knew intervention was needed.

Truth be known, all of the dresses looked great on her, yet, she had some mental image of what she should look like this evening and he knew she wouldn't stop until she reached that image, or he talked her out of it. When she slipped on the blue silk dress, he let out a coarse wolf whistle, pulling her from her thoughts. He told her that this was his favorite so far, went on a bit about her looking sexy and glamorous, then gently reminded her that Brandon Finnerty, her agent, would be there in ten minutes with the limo to pick them up.

Not a woman easily swayed by smooth words and flattery, she eyed him with distrust at first, but he managed to convince her and they made it out of the house on time. Once they hit the party, all signs of nervousness disappeared and she moved about the room with a polished precision.

Rossi thought back to when they met, and felt a sort of pride at how much she'd grown into her position as a best selling author, albeit, grown into it kicking and screaming.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He could still recall his reaction when his publisher asked him to be a part of a 20 city college campus tour with three other authors. Known as the Crime and Punishment Tour, there would be two fiction and two non fiction authors, each having their own private sessions, but capping off each tour stop with a full panel, all four authors taking questions from the audience. The publishing house would arrange transportation, lodging, and all meals. It would take 45 days to make the tour and they would be paid handsomely for their time. Skeptical, he went along with it, figuring that if nothing else, hopefully, he'd get to speak to some bright, enthusiastic college students.

On that first evening, fresh from a lecture with a very inquisitive and probing audience, he stood back stage, waiting to be introduced. Standing off to the side, he studied the other three authors. Anne Rule, a true crime writer from the Seattle area, who had an amazing talent for making the most gruesome crimes more human and intriguing and really brought the victim's story to light , stood in conversation with James Crumley, who's hardboiled fictional detectives embodied everything a movie private eye should be. He'd met them both before and had briefly chatted with then earlier in the day.

It was the fourth author in the room, Juliana DeVitto, who drew his curiosity. She'd written two novels, both with the same female police detective as the main character. They were accurate in detail and emotion, something he valued in a fiction piece. Both were best sellers and she'd established a steady fan base who were anxiously awaiting book three.

Juliana stood to the side, carefully maintaining an aloof expression, but clearly in awe of Rule and Crumley, wanting to join their conversation, but unable to bring her self to simply join in. Her body language told him that she was not used to her status and was having a hard time adjusting.

He walked across the room and offered her a smile. "I have to tell you," he began, with a friendly smile. "I enjoyed your novels."

"You've read my books?" she asked, clearly surprised.

Rossi laughed, "You seem surprised."

"Honestly? I am," she admitted. "I just never pictured that someone like you would actually read my stuff."

"Someone like me?" he prompted.

"Someone who did this for a living," she went on. "Your books are fascinating. I've used them as research materials."

"I'm honored," he nodded.

"And I'm honored as well," she admitted.

"Is this your first book tour?"

"To this magnitude, yes," she admitted. "I'm sure you've already figured out that I'm just totally blown away by this."

"Now that you mention it," he said, with a knowing smile, "I did pick up on it."

"Good to see you haven't lost your touch," she tried.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," began a voice from the doorway, "It's time to start the evening's session. If you'll all follow me, please?"

Rossi watched as Juliana took a deep breath and gathered herself. She noticed his attention and gave him a smile.

"Come on," he said, "You'll do fine."

The session was a lively one, with all four authors having a chance to field questions. They stayed afterwards, signing autographs and talking with the attendees, until the event organizers shuffled them into waiting cabs.

As he settled into the back seat of the cab, Juliana DeVitto got in after him.

"Well," she smiled, "Looks like you're stuck riding with the newbie."

"For a newbie, you did well tonight."

She blushed, but didn't try to hide it. "Thank you. It's exhilarating, isn't it?"

He laughed, "It can be. Lucky for us, this was a good audience."

"It was," she agreed. "Very intelligent questions, I'm glad. Sometimes, you just wonder if people actually think before they open their mouths."

"You should hear some of the questions I get," he shook his head.

"I can imagine," She studied him for a moment, then, almost sheepishly, she said, "I do have to admit, I am a bit in awe of you."

"Why would you be in awe of me?"

"Your career, the things you've experienced? Hell, you've been face to face with Bundy, Gacy, Dahmer…"

He shrugged, "I was doing my job."

"Still, I would have loved to have had the chance to speak to any one of them."

"Which one would you have preferred to speak to, if you had a choice?" he posed, curious to see her response. He decided she'd go for Bundy. Something about her told him she would have loved to poke holes in Bundy's charming façade.

She thought for a moment, "Bundy."

"Why Bundy?"

"He was so charismatic; I've read so many interviews with him, that I think he'd be fascinating."

"To be honest, Gacy was a much more interesting interview."

"Now see, Gacy scares me most of all."

"And why is that?"

"You're going to laugh," she demurred.

"I promise, I won't."

"It's the whole clown thing," she visibly shivered. "I have this thing about clowns…I know it's totally irrational, but something about the whole white face and big red mouth just scares me."

"Believe it or not, it's a very common fear," he assured her.

"Yeah, well, Gacy sure as hell enforced that fear as far as I'm concerned."

"Then its better that you never met him," he laughed, as the cab stopped in front of their hotel.

"We're here already?" she began, frowning.

"You sound disappointed."

"I am, I've enjoyed talking to you and quite honestly, I don't want to go hole up in that bland hotel room."

"Who said you had to hole up in your room? I happened to notice that the hotel had a bar, would you like to join me for a drink?"

She smiled at him, "I think I would."

_**Every person, all the events of your life are there because you have drawn them there. What you choose to do with them is up to you.  
Richard Bach**_

Rossi stood to the side of the auditorium, watching as Julie slipped on her jacket and excused herself from the group she'd been speaking with. Six stops into the tour and she'd finally relaxed and was enjoying herself. She'd become more at ease and confident, although there were moments when she stopped and realized that this was truly her life. He found that genuine appreciation for her success a very attractive trait.

Hell, he found just about everything about her attractive. She was intelligent, attractive, and down to earth. And, there was still a bit of hero worship on her side that both excited and un-nerved him.

They'd fallen into a habit of closing the hotel bar each night and he found, much to his chagrin, that she was too damn easy to talk to. There was no question in his mind that they would make their way to bed. What her playful flirtation didn't tell him, her body language did, so he knew the attraction wasn't one sided. He was too old to play the ridiculous cat and mouse game and pretend that he wasn't intrigued by her, but he was letting her control their pace.

"Waiting for me?" she began with a smile.

"I was," he returned the smile.

"This is becoming a habit," she went on, as they walked into the hallway.

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It's not, but, I was thinking," she began, eyes twinkling devilishly. "Why don't we shake things up a little bit tonight?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Instead of having dinner at the hotel, what do you say we catch a cab and actually go out to eat in a real restaurant?"

"I like the way you think," He agreed, "What are you in the mood for?"

"Loaded question, Mr. Rossi," she laughed, "But I'll say let's start the evening a good steak and an ice cold beer? What do you say to that?"

"I say, let's get a cab."

They ended up in a busy pub in the middle of the college campus. They sat, laughing and talking through two very well prepared filets and a pitcher of ice cold beer. When they were done, they decided to forego the cab and walk back to the hotel.

Despite the cold evening, they enjoyed their walk throughout the town. They walked close, shoulders touching, having become comfortable in each others' presence. As they stopped to wait for the light to change, snow began to fall.

"It's snowing," she grinned.

He watched her, as she looked up into the sky, watching the snow fall. Flakes caught in her dark hair, lingering a moment before melting. Feeling his eyes on her, she turned to look at him.

"You're staring."

"I am," he admitted.

"I'm acting like a four year old, I know," she blushed.

"That wasn't why I was staring," he continued.

She raised a brow, "I sense a slick line coming here…"

Rossi laughed. She was right, he was going to feed her some sort of line. He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.

"You don't need a line," she simply said, her eyes flashing. "We've both been flirting hot and heavy all night."

"We have," he agreed. "I've been attracted to you since the night we met."

"So, the feeling is mutual," she smiled.

"It is," he nodded.

"Then why haven't you acted on it?"

He studied her for a moment, pondering her question. He'd been asking himself the same one.

"Is it because I'm a peer?" she asked, straightening the collar of his jacket. "Or, because you've got 11 years on me? Or is there another reason that's a little deeper than the obvious?"

He shook his head in admiration. This one, he decided, was going to give him a run for his money. He wondered, momentarily, what it was that she saw in him, but stopped before he did a full psychological analysis on her.

"Well," she gave a soft laugh, "I think I've rendered the great David Rossi speechless."

"You have," he mused. "It's been a long time since a woman has had that effect on me."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Good for you, bad for me," he continued.

She mulled over his response for a moment, "I'm not sure I like that sound of that. Have I played this whole thing wrong?"

He shook his head, "No, you haven't. Not at all."

"Then what's going on in that brilliant mind of yours? And be honest."

"What did you tell me the other night? That you're not a one night stand waiting to happen?"

"That's what I said," she replied, and he could see doubt creeping in, although she maintained the confident façade, "One night stands serve a purpose, but in order to serve that purpose, they've got to stay fairly anonymous. We're way past anonymous."

She was right, of course, and although she phrased it differently than he would have, the thought was the same. The doubt was more evident as she continued to speak.

"So, we can take this one of two ways," she said, her eyes connecting with his, "We can give into this mutual attraction, have what I think would be an amazing night, then see what we can make of this. Or, we can walk away from it, no harm, no foul."

Without a word, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, his actions providing her answer and setting the course for the rest of their evening.

_**"Meeting you was fate, becoming your friend was a choice, falling in love with you was beyond my control!"  
Source Unknown**_

The sound of applause pulled him from his thoughts. He supposed he was grateful, as had his mind been allowed to wander into the memories of their first night together, his physical reaction would have probably attracted some attention. He laughed, imagining how Brendan Finnerty would explain why Julie's boyfriend, David Rossi, best selling author, was standing off in the corner, sporting a hard on that could cut glass.

Chuckling to himself, he set down his empty glass on a side table. As he did, he spotted Brendan Finnerty approaching.

Rossi studied the man with a trained eye. Something about the good looking, smooth talking man rubbed him the wrong way. Julie teased him, telling him that he was jealous of her spending so much time with Brendan, but that wasn't the case. There was something about the guy that just didn't sit right with him; he just couldn't nail it down.

"We're going to have to hustle her out of here," Finnerty said, without greeting. "You know she'll stay all night."

"I know,' Rossi nodded.

"I'll settle up with the money end, you see what you can do to get her into the limo," he said, then walked away.

Rossi watched him go, then walked over to Julie. Despite the fact that she was involved in conversation, she smiled when she saw him approaching.

"Laura, Franz, I'd like you to meet someone," she said to her companions, then reached out and took Rossi's hand. "This is David Rossi. David, this is Laura and Franz VanLititz, from the VanLititz foundation."

"Pleasure to meet you," Rossi said, shaking Franz' hand, then Laura's.

"We were just discussing developing a scholarship in Juliana's name," Franz began, "To help young female authors."

"Laura and I were in the same graduating class at Georgetown," Julie explained.

"We thought it would be a great way to give back to the school," Laura smiled.

Rossi studied the couple as they went on about Georgetown and their proposed scholarship. Laura was a slim blond. Clad in a simple, yet obviously pricey black cocktail dress, she kept her arm firmly linked with that of her husband. Fritz had to have had 25 years on Laura. Despite his age, he kept fit, and looked fairly healthy. While Laura spoke, he watched her with a fatherly pride.

"We will have to do dinner when we're in town again," Fritz began, his tone jovial.

"I'd like that," Rossi nodded, then, to Julie, "Brendan would like us to make our way to the limo."

Julie nodded, "So, he's sending you to do his dirty work, huh?"

"He knows I'm better at it than he is," he returned in kind.

After saying their farewells to Franz and Laura, they made their way out of the restaurant and to the waiting limo. The driver opened the door and escorted them in. Once seated, they found themselves alone.

"Mr. Finnerty will be along in a few minutes," the driver offered, "Please make yourself comfortable while you wait." With that, he shut the door.

Julie kicked off her deep blue pumps and stretched her legs. "Well, how did I do?"

He gave her a smile, "You've come a long way since that first book tour."

"Let's hope so," she replied, studying him. "So, were you bored stiff tonight, or what?"

"I sat there taking it all in, drinking some very good scotch and watching you work the room. The evening was enjoyable."

"Ah," she replied, sliding close to him and slipping an arm around him. "But the evening's not over yet."

"What did you have in mind, Ms. DeVitto?" he replied, puling her into his arms.

"You and me and that bottle of Moet that's in the refrigerator?" she purred, stroking the back of his neck. "After all, we need to celebrate."

"I can think of better ways to celebrate than the bottle of Moet," he returned, kissing her.

"Hm…I can see there'll be no need to set the mood tonight."

"The mood's already been set," he said, his voice muffled by the side of her neck.

"You keep that up and we won't make it out of the limo," she said, leaning her head to the side to give him better access. He worked his way along her neck, to her shoulder, then back up, finally settling on the spot below her ear that always produced results. She gave a throaty laugh, "No fair hitting The Spot."

"All is fair in love and war," he quoted, his lips brushing her ear.

As she opened her mouth to reply, the limo door opened and Brendan climbed in, sitting on the seat across from them.

"All's settled with the money," he said, then, noticing what he'd walked in on. "Whoa, looks like I've interrupted something."

"You did," Rossi dryly returned, as Julie sat up and adjusted her clothing.

"Sorry about that, Guys," he sheepishly said.

"It's okay," Julie laughed, "We can pick up where we left off when we get home."

"Great, then come here and check out these totals," Brendan returned, flipping open his leather folder.

Julie turned and gave Rossi a peck on the cheek, with her lips close to his ear, she quietly said, "To be continued…" Then, turned to Brendan and brightly said, "So, show me how we did."

Rossi watched as Julie moved over and sat next to Brendan. Brendan flashed him what he swore was a victorious smile before devoting his attention to Julie. Yeah, there was something about that guy that rubbed him the wrong way, seriously the wrong way.


	4. Welcome to the Big Time

_**The more important the subject and the closer it cuts to the bone of our hopes and needs, the more we are likely to err in establishing a framework for analysis. **_

_**-**__**Stephen Jay Gould**_

He watched her as she slipped out of the Navy blue cocktail dress. Falling to the floor, the material made the soft rustling sound that only silk could make. David Rossi had to admit that there he always found something erotic about that sound.

"You're staring at me," she said, with a wry smile, as she bent and picked up the dress.

"I like what I see," he said, watching her move about the room in a navy blue lace bra and matching panties. He knew she would say she looked fat, but she was far from overweight. She had full breasts and the soft curves that a woman should have.

"Do you?"

"I do," he nodded, sitting on the end of the bed.

"Even after you had to sit there and watch me run my yap and sign books for three hours?"

"Because of that," he replied, taking her hand and pulling her onto his lap. He slipped his arms around her, "Do you know how sexy you were tonight?"

"Me?" she laughed.

"Yes, you," he nodded, "You were confident, relaxed, totally in your element. You loved every moment of tonight, didn't you?"

"I like talking to the people who actually read my books," she admitted. "Although, from your description of this evening, I think you enjoyed it more than I did. I always have said you have a bit of the voyeur in you."

"It's a hazard of the job," he said with a shrug, "But, you do bring it out in me."

"Great, so I feed your deviances," she laughed, draping her arms around his neck, "Wonder what other kinks I can bring out of you."

Rossi laughed, nuzzling her neck. "I prefer to think that you bring out the better parts of me."

"There's one part that I'm definitely bringing out right now," she mused, as he unhooked her bra.

Tossing it towards the dresser, he looked at her, "And you do that so well," he said, laying her back onto the bed, and kissing her passionately.

"And now it's time for you to show me what you do so well," she purred, watching him as he quickly stripped out of his suit.

"Your wish is my command," he winked, returning to the bed and pulling her close.

Looking back at it, he should have known what was going on. His instincts should have felt the eyes that were trained on them; he should have sensed the man who watched them as their bodies tangled on the deep purple Egyptian cotton sheets. He should have picked up on so many small details that were there, right under his eyes. But, he made the one fatal mistake that he'd seen victims and their loved ones make countless times. He never thought it could happen to them.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was a curse of his experience, but he tended to notice things that the average man didn't. Even when he wasn't working, he watched people, studied them, and looked below their carefully crafted facades to see the real person beneath. Sure, he could turn it off when needed, but in situations like tonight, where he was just sitting back and observing, he let himself go. It kept him sharp and could be downright entertaining.

He supposed that Julie's earlier observation about him having a bit of the voyeur in him was true. He did enjoy watching her when she wasn't really aware of it. When she took the podium to speak and field questions, she thanked all of the guests for coughing up the $250 a head entrance fee. She spoke for a while about her books, about Claudia DelAmici, her lead character, and Claudia's on again/off again romance with District Attorney Jack Malone.

Inevitably, she was asked if Jack Malone was based on anyone she knew. She answered, as always, with a cryptic response, saying that there were qualities of every man she'd ever known in that character. He knew, however, that he was the source of a good many of Jack's personality traits. She'd introduced Jack in her third book, which she began writing on their book tour. Reader response to the character was positive, so she decided to include him in each subsequent book. By book five, Jack was a pivotal character in both the mysteries and Claudia's life.

After she answered that question, she found him in the crowd, connecting with his eyes briefly, flashing him a smile, that was subtle, and probably not noticed by many, then went on to the next question.

As much as the gesture pleased Rossi, it angered another one of the room's occupants. The very same man who watched them later that evening was there, watching her every move. Watching her right under Rossi's nose, made it that much sweeter for the man. He stored that triumph in his memory, and would fall back on it as a source of confidence many times in the future.

_**Civilization is hideously fragile [and] there's not much between us and the horrors underneath, just about a coat of varnish.  
Author: **__**C. P. Snow**_

Rossi slowly made his way into the kitchen of Julie's Georgetown home. The smell of freshly brewed coffee was a powerful draw and he found himself craving a good strong cup. As he opened the cabinet above the coffee maker and pulled out a mug, he felt a presence behind him.

"Good Morning, Dave," a male voice said, causing him to turn quickly. Laughing, the man spoke, "Did I scare ya?"

"I forgot you stayed here last night," Rossi admitted, studying Brendan Finnerty. "I didn't expect to find anyone in the kitchen."

"Is Julie sleeping in?"

"Last I saw her," he said, pouring coffee in the mug, "She was in the shower."

Brendan nodded, studying the notebook computer in front of him, "She said she wanted to leave you with our agenda and flight schedule."

Rossi nodded, sitting at the table across from Brendan. "Yeah, she likes to keep me in the loop."

Brendan nodded, "Guess you really can't do that in your line of work, huh?"

"I try," he allowed, wondering why he was defending himself to Brendan of all people.

"I just sent the schedule to the printer in Julie's office and I've emailed one to your home email," Brendan said, then, "Shit…"

Rossi raised a brow, "Something wrong?"

Brendan appeared to be mulling over the decision to tell him what was going on, then, the younger man spoke, his tone hushed. "Julie's been getting some…strange email lately."

"Strange? In what way?"

"At first, the guy was very complimentary, just another fan letter. But lately…" he shook his head. "He seems to be an uber fan. He knows all kinds of details about her."

Rossi mulled this over in his head, "I've had a few of them, but they managed to stay on the right side of the line when it came to stalker tendencies."

"So did this guy…until this morning," he said, turning the lap top around so that Rossi could see it.

On the monitor was a picture of Julie, taken last evening, as she stood at the podium, speaking.

"Okay, so he was at the benefit last night," Rossi allowed, reserving his judgment.

"It gets worse," Brendan said, "Open the other attachments."

Rossi tapped his finger on the touchpad mouse, opening the second attachment. It was a picture of him and Julie, getting into the limo after the party. Concerning, yes, but nothing that your average paparazzi wouldn't have produced. It was the third picture that caused him to pause.

Taken from outside the house, the photographer had focused on Julie's bedroom window. Neither of them had noticed that she'd left the drapes partially opened that morning. She always opened the drapes to let the morning sun shine in. Through the ten inch opening, the photographer had taken a picture of Julie, standing, in her bra and panties, sexy smile in place.

"See what I mean?" Brendan asked, as if asking for approval.

"You're right, he is an uber fan," Rossi agreed. "He must have followed us back here last night."

"Who followed us?" Julie asked, walking into the kitchen.

"No one," Brendan quickly said, minimizing the picture on the laptop.

Julie fixed her glance on Rossi, "David?"

"Seems you have a very devoted fan," he explained. "Someone snapped a couple of pictures of you last night and sent them to you in an email."

"Any good ones?" she lightly said, clearly concerned by Brendan's reaction to the situation.

"Just do me a favor," Rossi continued, keeping his tone light, "Make sure you close your drapes from now on, okay?"

She raised a brow. "He took pictures through my window?"

"One," Brendan allowed.

"Let me see," she insisted.

"Julie, you don't need…" Brendan protested, but Rossi cut him off.

"Show her, she needs to know what's going on."

He watched Julie's expression go from concern to disgust while she viewed the pictures. After a moment, Julie looked up from the monitor, her brows furrowed. "Should I be concerned?"

He could see the fear that was growing behind her eyes, so he stood and pulled her into his arms. "Just be vigilant. Lock your doors; look before you get into the car…"

She nodded, as they separated, forcing on a smile. "So, I guess I really made the big time, huh? I've got my own stalker."

"Welcome to the big time," Rossi returned in kind.

"Julie, I don't think it's funny," Brendan seriously said, then cast a look at Rossi. "How can you joke about this?"

"This," Rossi began, calmly, "Is clearly a fan whose taken things a bit further than most, however, at this point, that's all it is. In any of his prior emails, has he threatened her? Made any suggestive overtones?"

"How long has this guy been emailing me?" Julie asked, clearly annoyed that Brendan had kept this from her.

"A week or two," he replied, "But he's just been overly complimentary, discussing similarities you both have…nothing threatening or suggestive."

"Okay," she nodded, processing the information. She looked again to Rossi, "So, we just keep an eye on this guy, right?"

Rossi nodded, "Hold onto all of the emails he's sent. If it escalates or changes, then we look into it a bit deeper, but for the time being, there's not enough to start an investigation."

"Okay," she smiled at him, "Then, let me get a cup of coffee and we can go over the tour schedule."


	5. Creeped Out

"_**The tragedy of life is not that it ends so soon, but that we wait so long to begin it."**_

_**W. M. Lewis**_

She'd been gone for a little over 2 weeks and he had to admit that he missed her. He'd gotten used to being the one who left, while she stayed behind. He would go off, work on whatever case came their way, and then come home to the comfort of her big old Victorian house. Julie would be there when he got back, to listen to the stories of the crimes he witnessed and help exorcize the demons that they had raised in his soul.

This time, it was she who was away; it was she who had stories to bring home. Those stories, he hoped, would be light and full of her dry humor, not the horror stories that he usually told. He found himself wishing the next three weeks would pass quickly so that she could return and life could fall back into the routine they'd adapted.

When, he wondered, did he learn to love routine?

"Dave," Aaron Hotchner's voice began from the doorway, causing him to look up.

"Aaron," he nodded.

"What are you doing here this late?" the younger agent asked, walking into the office. "Everything okay at home?"

Rossi nodded. Hotchner was the only member of the BAU who knew about his relationship with Julie. Not that the two of them discussed the day to day details of their lives, but he supposed that they did know more about each other than the rest of the unit.

"Julie's on her book tour," he simply said.

Hotchner nodded, "That explains a lot."

Rossi raised a brow, "Explains what?"

"You're here til all hours of the night, even when we're not in the midst of a case."

"Yeah, well," he shrugged, then laughed. "I'm not used to this."

"What? Having a reason to go home?" Hotchner laughed.

"Yeah, I can't remember the last time I actually gave a damn about someone other than myself."

"If I were a romantic, I'd say you were in love with the girl."

"Ah, so that's what you call it," he laughed, then shook his head, "I'm too damn old to be acting like this."

"What? Missing her presence? Thinking about her? Shit, believe it or not, that's what they say a successful relationship is supposed to be like."

"I think that's my problem, Aaron, I can't recall ever having a successful relationship, I'm not sure I'd recognize one."

"Why is it," Hotchner mused, "That we don't recognize it when we actually have it good?"

"Good point," he shook his head, "You eat yet?"

Hotchner's answer was a snort of a laugh. "Did you?"

"No, but I think we should. Come on, I'm buying."

"Since you put it that way," he returned, standing and following Rossi out of the office.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As he unclipped Roscoe's leash, his cell phone began to ring. Flipping it open, he placed it to his ear. "Rossi."

"Hello Mr. G-man," Julie's voice began.

"Hello there, gorgeous," he returned. "How's Cleveland?"

"Hm, well, so far, I've seen the airport, a cab, a bookstore, and a hotel," she mused. "How's Virginia?"

"Quiet," he replied, walking up the stairs. "Spent the day catching up on paperwork."

"How late did you stay at the office tonight?" she knowingly asked.

"Only until 8. Aaron stopped by my office to check in on me, so we went out and grabbed dinner."

"Anywhere good?"

"I took him to Dante's," he mentioned their favorite Italian restaurant.

"What'd he think?"

"We've got another convert," he assured her. "What about you? Have you eaten?"

"I conned Brendan into scoring some pizza on the way back to the hotel," she sheepishly said. "I was just in the mood for good pizza."

"And I'm sure he scoured Cleveland for the finest pizza they had," he sarcastically returned.

"No, I think he found the worst pizza I've ever had," she laughed, then her voice grew quiet. "I miss you."

"Do you now?"

"Yeah, I do," she returned, "Especially when I go back to my hotel room at night. I don't like sleeping alone."

"It's no picnic here, either," he said.

"Wait…are you saying you miss me?"

"I do," he allowed, then, "More than I thought I would." He paused a moment, picturing her sitting on her bed, smiling at his last comment.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" she asked.

"Good for you, bad for me," he softly laughed.

"Be careful there, Mr. G-man, remember what happened the last time you said something was good for me and bad for you."

"If I remember correctly, I ended up making love to a very beautiful, exciting woman."

"Hm…wonder if that's going to happen for you tonight," she playfully mused.

"No, I don't think it will," he returned in kind, "See, the beautiful, exciting woman that I'd like to make love to is sitting in an overpriced hotel room in Cleveland."

"Sucks to be her," she sighed, then, "Did you give any thought to meeting me in Baltimore on Saturday?"

"Don't you have something going on Saturday night?"

"No, I don't know how me managed to leave a free Saturday night in the schedule, but Brendan's got me doing something Friday night, Saturday until 4 pm, then again Sunday at 1, before we head down to Atlanta." Her voice became a sexy purr, "Just think about it. You can meet me at the hotel by 4:30; we can order room service…"

"Room service, huh? That all you got?"

"I wasn't done. I was going to say, you meet me at the hotel, we can order room service; lock ourselves into the room and make up for being apart for the past two weeks..."

"That's more like it," he said. "I'll meet you in the lobby at 4:30."

_**The senses do not deceive us, but the judgment does.**_

_**Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe **__**  
1749-1832, German Poet, Dramatist, Novelist**_

"How was your drive up?" Julie asked, as they embraced.

"I spent the whole ride up on the phone with Brendan," he began.

"He filled you in on the emails from the past two days, I take it," she sighed.

"He did," Rossi returned, his expression stern, "Why didn't you say something?"

"Because I still don't think there's a reason to freak out," she shrugged. "The guy's more than likely sitting at his computer in Virginia."

"And you're sure of this…how?"

"He hasn't mentioned any details of anything I've done since I left on the tour. There are no new pictures," she shrugged.

"He could be anywhere, Julie," he reasoned, "Don't let your guard down."

"I won't," she tiredly said,

"I stopped by Brendan's room on the way up here and sent all of the emails to Aaron," he explained, "He's going to have Garcia see if she can trace his ip address."

"Great, so I'm officially a BAU case now?"

"Unofficially," he corrected. "For the time being."

"I think you and Brendan are making too big of a deal over this," she insisted, "But, if it makes you both feel better, you go right ahead." She smiled at him, "Now, I didn't have you drive up here to spend the night talking about some loser with too much time on his hands."

He knew that smile and knew what it meant. Forcing down his concern over the email situation, he said, "I seem to remember something about calling for room service?"

"I think we need to work up an appetite first," she slyly said, unbuttoning the black button front shirt she wore. "So, I went shopping last night and treated myself to some new lingerie," she went on, slipping the shirt from her shoulders to reveal a black lace bra trimmed with hot pink satin ribbon. "What do you think?"

"Nice," he said with an appreciative nod. "Is there more?"

"Greedy, aren't you?" she laughed, unzipping her jeans, then easing them from her hips. She stepped out of the jeans and stood before him. "Well?"

Her skin was a soft pale ivory and the black lace and vivid pink contrasted sharply with its tone. He thought the set looked good on her, but then again, he would have been just as content to see her without the lingerie. He discovered early on that she liked wearing lacy underwear. It made her feel feminine and sexy and he liked the side effects of her feeling feminine and sexy.

"Very nice," he said, stepping to her, "But I think it would look better on the floor." He reached out and pulled her close, "Come here."

As he laid her back on to the bed, he took a quick look around the room, noting that the door was locked and the curtains were drawn tight.

"David," she said, looking up at him, "Relax…"

He made every effort to do just that, but something in the back of his mind wouldn't turn off. Julie wasn't a needy woman. She was strong, with a good street sense. She knew how to take care of herself and did not need his protection, yet that's exactly what he felt he now needed to do. True, the unsub hadn't done anything more than email her and take a few pictures. But the emails had changed in tone. Now, the he talked about how he could "be the right man" for Julie, he talked about the life he could provide her with, the way he would take care of her and protect her.

She wouldn't admit it, but he knew the new tone left her unsettled and feeling more vulnerable than she was used to feeling. But that stubborn pride that at times he found so attractive wouldn't let her give in and take any of this serious. Instead, she dismissed it, making it seem as if it was nothing.

Finnerty on the other hand, was up in arms. He was, in his own words, "creeped out", by the whole thing. He admitted to Rossi that he'd hired security for the rest of the tour. He provided Rossi with the contact info for the security firm and he'd had Aaron check into it. The group came back with a good solid reputation.

He supposed he should be grateful that there was someone traveling with Julie who would look out for her. No matter what he thought of the guy, Rossi knew Finnerty would do just that.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

"Okay," Julie said, climbing back into bed, "I've ordered pizza and from what the concierge says, this is the best pizza in Baltimore."

"I'm from New York," he shrugged. "I'm a tough sell."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she rolled her eyes. "Anyway, the pizza will be here in a half hour to 45 minutes."

"Isn't that what they all say?"

She nodded, "Conditioned delivery response. I used to work at my uncle's pizza place in Cherry Hill and it didn't matter how log I actually thought it would take, the standard answer was "half hour, 45 minutes."

"Of course, you didn't get chewed out when it go there late," he sniffed, "That was the poor delivery guy."

"Tell me you used to deliver pizzas," she laughed.

"I did, in college," he said, "I was also a line cook at an Italian joint and tended bar here and there."

"I used to love tending bar," she recalled. "The tips were great. Flirt a little, wear a low cut top and flash a little cleavage…"

"That technique never worked for me," he returned, expression serious.

"I don't know, you could've flirted with me and I'd have given you a tip," she playfully said.

"You probably would have gotten me arrested."

"How old were you when you bartended?"

"20? 21?" he shrugged.

"That would have put me at 9 or 10. You've seen pictures of me at 9 and 10, there was nothing sexy or attractive about me at that age," she laughed. "Now, by 19 and 20…well, it was a bit better."

"Of course, by that time, I was already married…and no longer bartending."

"You were busy becoming Mr. G-man," she teased, kissing him. "Ah, its better we didn't know each other back then."

"Are you going to get philosophical?" he teased.

"Yeah, take notes," was her dry return. She made a face at him, then continued to speak. "We were different people back then, who probably would not have even given each other the time of day. If we hadn't gone through everything that brought us to that book tour, we probably wouldn't have had the connection we did."

"Very deep," he said, then laughed, "For a naked woman."

"I'll get dressed."

"The hell you will," he returned, kissing her deeply, feeling himself stirring again. She felt it too.

"Ease up there, Mr. G-man," she gently said, "You know, how it is with us. I don't want to burn you out right away."

"If I were 20 years younger…" he said, cursing the fact that his body was starting to remind him that he had entered the second half century of his life.

"I wouldn't be here with you, we've already established that," she dismissed. "Besides, it's not about frequency, it's about skill and duration – both of which you have more than mastered. The night is still young and I've got no where to be until tomorrow afternoon."

_Certain signs precede certain events._

_- __Cicero_

The shrill ringing of his cell phone woke them both with a start. Leaning across her, he snatched the offending piece of circuitry from the night stand, flipped it open and placed it to his ear. "Rossi," he said, more of a growl than a greeting.

"Dave?"

It was Finnerty, at six-fricking-thirty am. "Yeah?"

"I hate to wake you guys up, but there's something you need to see."

"More email?" he asked, watching as Julie sat up, all thoughts of sleep banished by his words.

"Yeah,"

"I'll be over in a few minutes," he returned, flipping the phone shut.

"I'm going with you," she announced, as they both got out of bed and slipped on clothes.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

He watched her, out of the corner of his eye, while he viewed the unsub's latest correspondence. In this latest email, the unsub chided her for having Rossi join her for the night. He warned her about being involved with a man who didn't care for her, a man who was only "using her for the comfort of her flesh." He told her that it hurt him to watch her throw her life away on such a one sided relationship. The unsub then told her that he loved her and, that someday, she would realize that he was her soul mate, the man she needed to spend the rest of her life with.

Those particular words sent a chill through Julie, but it was nothing like her response when she saw the video clips were attached to the email. Each of the six clips lasted but 20-30 seconds, but in succession, the chronicled the past night's activities, from Rossi's arrival in Julie's room until 3 am, when they finally fell asleep.

"Oh my God," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "He had a camera in my room…"

Finnerty turned off the video and looked at Rossi, "What are you going to do about this?"

"The first thing we're going to do is check her out of this hotel," he began, taking charge of the situation. "Call the publishing company, put the tour on hold."

"But…" she protested, but he cut her off.

"No buts," he firmly said. "I'll drive you back to Virginia."

"Is that safe?" Finnerty asked, looking between the two of them. "To take her back where this guy lives? Isn't that his comfort zone or something?"

"She'll be safer there," he said, letting Finnerty know that there was no room for debate.

"Wait a minute," Julie said, looking between the two of them. Her face was flushed and her eyes were wild, fear was mixing with indignance and anger and she was stepping very close to the edge of keeping her cool. "Okay, I'll admit it, this guy's getting kinda creepy but..."

"Julie, listen to me," Finnerty said, taking her hands. "Dave's right. Your safety is what's most important here. Let's get you home, let the FBI do what they need to do and once they get this guy, we'll go back out on tour, bigger and better than ever. Okay?"

"Fine," she sighed, "We'll postpone the tour."

"Good answer," Rossi said, flipping open his phone, "I'm calling the BAU."


	6. Crossing The Line

_**As for courage and will – we cannot measure how much of each lies within us; we can only trust there will be sufficient to carry through trials which may lie ahead.**_

_**Andre Norton**_

As he escorted Julie through the bullpen, past the questioning stares of the BAU team members, Rossi watched her, not his co workers.

She walked through the large room, casually taking it all in, not making eye contact with anyone. He knew she would have rather met the team in a social setting as opposed to this. So, she allowed him to guide her up the stairs and into his office, with no social interactions.

"Very impersonal office," she observed, looking around.

"I didn't want my private life put on display," he simply said.

She nodded, sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Guess that's gonna happen anyway, huh?"

"Julie," he quietly said, causing her to look up at him.

"I'm sorry," she returned, exhaustion crossing her features.

"Dave," Aaron Hotchner began from the doorway to the office.

"Aaron, come in," Rossi said.

"This must be Julie," Hotchner warmly said, walking to where Julie sat.

"And you're Aaron Hotchner," Julie returned, her tone matching his. "I'm glad to finally get to meet you."

"Me too," he agreed, "I wish it were under better circumstances."

"I do too. Well, when this is over, you'll have to join us for dinner at Dante's."

"I'd like that," he sincerely said, then, his tone slipping into one of pure business. "We've been analyzing the emails and have pulled video and all pictures from your signings."

"Have you found anything?"

"There are a few people we've found at multiple signings," Spencer Reid's voice began from the doorway.

Rossi watched Julie's head snap up and gaze at the lanky agent, "Dr Spencer Reid, Juliana DeVitto."

"Dr. Reid," Julie nodded.

"I've printed out their photos," Reid went on, walking into the office. "I'd like to show them to you, to see if anyone stands out?"

"Reid," Hotchner began, "Why don't you take Julie down to the bull pen? She can meet the rest of the team and take a look at the pictures."

"Sure, no problem," Reid nodded. "Ms. DeVitto, could you come with me?"

"Sure," Julie smiled, standing up and following Reid out of the room.

"She could have done that up here," Rossi said, once they were out of ear shot.

"With you looking over her shoulder?"

"I was doing no such thing," he defended, ire rising.

"Not intentionally."

Rossi took a deep breath and released it slowly, "Damn it, Aaron. I should have seen this happening. I wrote a God Damned book on stalking for Christ's sake…and I missed it all."

"And what did you tell every one of your victims? That the average person doesn't notice."

"I'm not the average person," he insisted. "I should have seen something, I should have known…"

"You should be able to figure out who this guy is and stop him?" Hotchner knowingly asked.

Rossi glared at him. He was right, that was exactly what he was going to say.

"Cut yourself a break. By the time you got to Baltimore and they told you about the change in tone of the emails, he had already wired the room with the camera."

"But I should have thought…"

"What? You should have swept the room for bugs or cameras? It was a randomly assigned hotel room. She checked in at 3 pm. The camera was remotely operated and hidden in the flower arrangement that was delivered to her room at 4. You arrived thirty minutes later, and, from what the videos portrayed, she did a damn good job of holding your attention."

"I was distracted, I knew about the email…"

"Dave," Hotchner firmly said, "Stop kicking yourself in the ass. You solve crimes, not predict and stop them. I know, you want to protect her and it's tearing you up that this is happening to her, but all you can do is focus on Julie…and on solving this case."

"You're right," Rossi allowed, although the younger man's words did nothing to ease the guilt he felt.

"I'm going to go see how she's doing. Give it a few minutes before you come down, okay?"

"Okay," Rossi agreed, watching Hotchner walk out of the office. Closing his eyes, he massaged his temples, willing the throbbing headache to dissipate.

_**Fear is an insidious virus. Given a breeding place in our minds ... it will eat away our spirit and block the forward path of our endeavors.**_

_**James F. Bell**_

Rossi opened the door of Julie's house with his key and walked inside. A moment later, Roscoe charged into the foyer, tail wagging, to great him.

"Hello, Roscoe," he said, scratching the dog behind the ears. "Where's Julie?"

Roscoe turned and ran into the living room.

"Julie?" Rossi called.

"In here," her voice returned, from the living room.

He walked in to find her sitting on the sofa, holding a glass of amber liquid. One look at her flushed cheeks told him that glass in her hand was far from her first. Finnerty sat to her left, holding a glass of his own.

"Want a drink, Dave?" Finnerty asked, standing up and walking to the bar cart.

"I'm good," Rossi returned, watching Julie. He sensed he walked in on something. He walked over to where she sat, leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Have you eaten yet?"

She shook her head, "Food wasn't high on my list of priorities."

Rossi looked up at Finnerty, who shrugged and said, "I kept offering dinner, but she refused."

"Why don't you come into the kitchen and we'll make something," he asked, holding his hand out to Julie. She looked at him, in her eyes he found fear mixed with exhaustion, influenced by alcohol.

She debated the thought, then set down her drink and took his hands, allowing him to help her stand.

"You're welcome to stay for dinner, Brendan," Julie said, her tone tinged with a subtle anger, that, had he not known her so well, he might not have noticed.

This piqued Rossi's curiosity, but he said nothing.

"I think I'll leave you two alone," Finnerty said, "You've got a lot to talk about. I'll see you in the morning, Julie."

"I'll be at the book store," she said, then, almost as an afterthought, "You can stop by…"

"I'll see you there," he winked, setting his glass down on the table. "I'll see myself out." He walked out of the living room,

After hearing the front door open and shut, Julie sighed.

"Everything okay?" Rossi asked, trying to sound casual.

"Everything's fine," she said, and he could tell she was lying. "Let's go cook dinner."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Julie seemed to lighten up while they were cooking and eating. They talked, laughed, and relaxed. Once they'd finished cleaning up, she poured them each a glass of scotch.

They sat on the sofa, sipping their scotch, in silence. He knew that there was something she was holding back, that there was something she needed to say, but she wasn't ready. He didn't push her; instead, he sat, holding her hand, in comfortable silence.

When she drained her glass, she looked into it, as if the remaining ice cubes could give her guidance. With a sigh, she looked at him.

"Shortly before you walked into the house tonight, Brendan suggested that I ask you to move out," she quietly said.

He raised a brow, but kept his emotions in check. "What brought that about?"

"He seems to think your presence is agitating the unsub," she said, causing him to wonder when that term became part of her day to day vocabulary. "He said that if you weren't a part of my life, this guy would leave me alone and worship from afar."

"Maybe he's right," he said, waiting for her reaction. He didn't have to wait long, before she cast him a sharp glare.

"What? You too?" she returned, her voice cold. "I don't know why this guy picked me to stalk, but he did. I didn't ask for it, I don't think I deserve it. But, damnit, David, he's already taken enough away from my life, I'm not giving him any more," she firmly said, setting her glass on the table. "And I know that it's absolutely killing you to not be able to find this guy. I can feel it in the way you look at me, the way you touch me."

"This isn't about me, Julie," he began, deciding that nothing less than honesty would work in this situation. "Yes, I do feel like I should be catching this asshole, but more than that I want to stop him before his attention becomes physical. In cases like this, the unsub will escalate in his fantasies and can eventually try to possess the object of his desire." He looked her in the eyes, and spoke quietly, hoping that his words could adequately portray the feeling behind them. "I can't let that happen."

"Brendan seems to feel that you're more concerned with saving your reputation than you are about me. That, if this whack job decides to do something to me, you'd look like a joke."

"And you? Do you agree with his analysis?"

She shook her head, "He doesn't know you like I do."

"So, his solution is to have me move out?"

Picking up her empty glass, she stood, walked to the bar cart and refilled her glass. After taking a long healthy drink, she spoke.

"I am sick and tired of this shit. I want my life back. I want to be able to just spend my days at the store, then come home and spend my nights with you. I want to walk around without having to look over my shoulder, and I want you to stop looking at me like this was all your fault. Jesus, David, I really thought we were going to be able relax and enjoy our lives once you solved the Galens' murder…" She stopped and looked at him. "Please stop it…"

"Stop, what?"

"You're doing it again," she insisted.

He tried not to let his frustration show. He reminded himself that she was tired, frightened, and was, from her own admission, feeling the effects of 6 glasses of scotch. He knew she was on her way to a meltdown, and that it would happen tonight. His job was to minimize the meltdown, and not let her lose it completely. If he were to snap back at her, he would only precipitate it and make it infinitely worse. "What am I doing?"

She closed her eyes for a moment, then spoke, "Looking at me like I'm a victim."

"But you are a victim," he said, knowing, as the words left his lips, that they were the wrong thing to say.

"So, that's what I am to you now, huh? A victim…" shaking her head, she finished her drink and set the glass back down on the bar cart.

"Julie…" he began, but she held up her hand. He stopped, waiting for the outburst that was building within her.

"You know," she said, trembling slightly. "Brendan said a whole lot of nasty shit about you today and I sat there and defended you. See, he thinks that you're taking notes on this whole thing and I am going to be your next book."

"That thought hasn't even crossed my mind," he returned.

"That's what I told him," she nodded, then looked at him with narrowed eyes, "But, see, you just admitted to me that you think I'm a victim. You're thinking of me in profiler terms. Have you profiled me? Has Aaron?"

He tried to follow her drunken logic. "Sweetheart," he gently said, stepping closer to her. "Listen to me; this is an active BAU case now. And yes, as part of the case, they've had to look into your past."

"See…" she began, but he cut her off.

"To see if this guy came from your past, to find any clue of where he could have met you…"

"So, now everyone in your team knows all about me, huh?"

"They know what your public records say," he corrected. "They know your educational history, your employment history…"

"My medical history?"

"Sure, they know that, too," he shrugged.

"Great," she sniffed, "So, let me see if I have this right, you've been working with these people for a while now. With the exception of Aaron, they didn't even know I existed.

But, instead of meeting me at the company Christmas party, they're meeting me as a victim. Instead of chatting with them and getting to know them over drinks and dinner, I get to meet them over pictures of stalkers. Instead of getting to know me as your girlfriend, I'm the victim of their latest unsub. Every time they see me from now on, they'll think of me that way. They'll know everything about my life, down to my last tetanus shot."

"Once this case is over, they'll get to know the real you…" he tried, watching as her actions became more manic. She was close to breaking and, he hated to admit, he hoped it happened soon. It was painful to watch her like this.

"The real me? Who the hell is that?" she asked, a tear running down her cheek. "Look at how I'm acting. Like a total freaking lunatic. Maybe I am a victim; maybe you should be taking notes. You can do a whole chapter on how some unknown stalker can turn a mostly rational, intelligent woman into a screaming, crying victim." She stopped, tears flowing down her face.

He knew the tears pissed her off; she was not a woman who cried easy. No, she yelled, threw things, cussed like a sailor, but she reserved her tears for only the most necessary times. Unable to watch her continue, he took her hands and spoke in a quiet, gentle tone.

"You are one of the strongest, most independent women I've ever known, its one of the things that first attracted me to you."

"Look at me," she hissed, "Do I look strong and independent?"

"Do you remember what you said to me the first time I woke you up with one of my nightmares," he said, causing her to raise her eyes and look at him. "You are not super- human. You've been put into a situation that most people will never have to deal with, yet here you are. And you're doing a damn good job of it, but you're allowed to drop the façade and let yourself go every now and then. You need to release some of the pressure that's building, so that you can move on and take the next steps."

"I just want this to be over," she said, her voice quiet, tired, emotional.

"Me too," he agreed, pulling her into his arms. He held her tightly, feeling her sob against his chest. "It's okay," he softly said, stroking her hair. "I promise you, I will find this guy and you will get your life back."

His attention was focused on Julie, on each sob she made, the way her hands clenched his shirt while she cried, the pain she as experiencing. He wished he could take it all on, but knew that wasn't possible. Instead, he held her, soothed her, and tried to be her strength,

Had he looked to his left, to the long thin window near the fireplace, he'd have seen that they were being watched. He would have noticed that the fact that he was still in the house, still holding Julie, was not pleasing the man who stood, hidden by the forsythia bushes, watching them carefully. He would have noticed the anger in the man's eyes, the set of his jaw, the clenched fists.

Had he have looked up, just for a moment, he would have witnessed the point when Brendan Finnerty crossed the line and decided that he had to step up his game and show Julie once and for all that she belonged with him.


	7. The Final Show Down

_**Fortune is fickle and soon asks back what he has given.**_

_**Latin proverb**_

Gone. She was gone. He'd left her that morning with a kiss and a promise of a telephone call when she got to the book store. He'd missed the call, having been down in the bull pen talking to Morgan and Prentiss.

By the time he returned to the office, he'd already gotten the call on his cell phone from Caroline, the manager of Julie's store, who told him that Brendan Finnerty had come into the store and escorted Julie out, saying they were going to sign some documents for the publishing firm. Caroline didn't notice until they'd been gone for a few moments, that Julie didn't bring her purse or her cell phone. She immediately grew concerned and called Rossi. It was at that moment that all of the pieces of the puzzle fell together and he knew that it had been Finnerty all along.

In the time it took him to get up to his office, they'd already put an APB out on Finnerty and his car and Rossi had already begun to kick himself. Despite the reminder from the BAU team that they had all looked at, and dismissed Finnerty as a suspect early on.

That didn't matter to him. Anger built as he walked in and saw the red message light blinking on his phone. He hit the speaker phone button, then played the message. Hearing Julie's voice, he stopped and listened.

"Hey there, Mr. G-man. It's me, your psycho girlfriend. I'm at the store. It feels good to be here. Call me when you're heading home, I'm going to make you an amazing dinner tonight. Anyway, I've got to go. Um…I hope you know that I love you…a lot. See you at home."

Overtaken by anger, Rossi swept his arm across his desk, sending everything that rested there scattering to the floor.

"That's going to be a pain in the ass to pick up," Hotchner observed.

Rossi turned and glared at him, "He fucking took her."

"I know," he returned. "I'm sorry."

"How the hell…"

"Could you have missed that it was Finnerty all along?" Hotchner shrugged. "There are six more of us wondering the same thing. He's good, damn good. He covered his tracks."

"And now, he's got her," he replied, absently studying the mess he'd made.

"He'll contact you soon to gloat about it."

"I can't just sit here and wait," he returned, feeling useless.

"Prentiss is heading out to Julie's store, Morgan's on the phone talking to the local police and Garcia is monitoring Julie's phone and email, as well as your email accounts, in case he contacts you that way."

"And we just sit and wait…"

"For now, yes,"

_**Once men are caught up in an event they cease to be afraid. Only the unknown frightens men.**_

_**- **__**Antoine de St. Exupery**_

Garcia's room of computer monitors always left David Rossi a bit unsettled. It wasn't that he didn't embrace the benefits of the technology she employed; it was that it made him feel so archaic. Now, he found himself feeling inferior as well.

Finnerty was playing games with him and he didn't like it one bit.

"Okay, Sir," Penelope Garcia began, typing furiously on her keyboard. "Here's the web address he gave you…"

They watched as the browser window turned a vivid blue. A video display, blank except for a red button in the center popped up, followed by a chat box.

"Someone's typing in the chat box," Garcia explained, "There…" She pointed to the words that appeared in the box.

"_Hello Dave. Took you long enough to figure out it was me. Before you ask, Julie is fine. As a matter of fact, if you click on the red button in the video box, you can see for yourself."_

Garcia clicked the red button and after a moment an image filled the screen. Julie, sitting in a chair, her arms behind her, apparently bound. Her eyes were wide, scanning the room. There were no marks on her face but there was a cloth gag tied around her mouth.

Rossi studied the room, it was bland, and the wall behind Julie was painted an off white color, with no paintings or other decorations visible. The trim was done in light brown wood. Other than the chair where Julie was tied, there was no other furniture visible in the room.

"He's typing again," Garcia said, pulling Rossi's eyes from the video.

"_**Yes, this is live streaming video. Don't try to trace it, you'll just be wasting your time,"**_ The text stated.

"Can I respond to him?"

Garcia nodded, "If you'd like, you can dictate and I'll type."

"Fine," Rossi nodded. "Ask him why he's doing this. See if he'll show his hand and give us a clue to where he is."

Garcia quickly typed the words. "_**Why did you take Julie?"**_

After a moment the response appeared. _**"Come on, Dave, You know the answer to that. She belongs with me."**_

Rossi spoke again, "Ask him why he has her tied up."

Garcia typed quickly and a moment later, Finnerty responded.

"_**For show more than anything. I'm not holding her against her will. She's coming around, but slowly. Just this morning, she told me that she wanted me as much as I want her."**_

Narrowing his eyes, Rossi fought against the urge to put his fist through the wall.

"Coming around, my ass," Morgan quietly said, "That's not desire in her eyes."

"Far from it," Rossi agreed.

The typing continued, "_**Sucks to be losing her, huh, Dave? I know. You're going to miss her, but hey, I'll be fair, I'll let you watch her for a while. But, I think you're going to have to prove you're worthy."**_

"Prove you're worthy?" Hotchner repeated.

More typing filled the box. "_**You say you love Julie, but I'm not so sure of that. Show me how much you know about her. I'm going to ask you some questions. If you get the answer right, you keep watching. Get it wrong…well, Julie and I will have some privacy to finally take our relationship to the next level. Are you ready for your first question?"**_

"Smug bastard," Rossi spat, "Tell him I'm ready."

Garcia typed his response, then a moment later, Finnerty typed his response

"_**First question: What's Julie's favorite desert?"**_

Garcia looked at Rossi, who, without moving his eyes from the image of Julie responded, "Tiramisu."

Garcia typed the answer, then read the response out loud.

"_**Good answer. Now, let's try another one. Who's her favorite singer?"**_

"Jack Johnson," Rossi said, feeling the eyes of the BAU team on him.

Garcia typed, then read, _**"You're two for two. I'm impressed. Let's try something a little more difficult. What's her bra size?"**_

Closing his eyes for a moment, spoke, "38C." He listened while Garcia typed.

"He says," Garcia's voice began, "_So, you know something about her, bu__**t that's stuff you can get from her MySpace profile."**_

"She doesn't have a MySpace profile," Reid added, offering information that Rossi already knew.

"_**Julie means a lot to me, Dave. I value every moment I spend with her. I can still remember the day we met, our first dinner together. Can you remember those details, Dave?"**_

"We met at Cornell University," Rossi recalled. "Our first dinner was in the private dining room of the Cornell Marriott."

Garcia typed those answers.

"_**Good, now, let's see what else you remember. Julie told me about the first time she slow danced with you. What song was playing?"**_

When he didn't respond, Garcia spoke, "Sir?"

"We were near the Villanova University campus, walking back through the hotel after dinner. There was a wedding…when we walked by, you could hear the music. Julie stopped, saying she loved the song, then asked me to slow dance, out in the hotel lobby." He stopped, trying in vain to remember the song.

"What was the song?" Reid prompted.

"I'm trying to remember…"

"Picture it in your mind," Reid continued, "You're in the lobby…what was Julie wearing?"

"Jeans…with a gray wool coat over top of a red sweater," he went on, picturing it clearly in her head. "She had her hair pulled up…"

"What did she say when she asked you to dance?" Reid calmly asked.

"She stopped and listened for a moment, with this smile on her face. She asked me if I could hear the song playing in the wedding," he thought, willing himself to remember anything about the song.

"Had you ever heard it before?"

"No," Rossi answered. "We started dancing and she was singing along…"

"Think of the lyrics…what was she singing?"

Finnerty was growing impatient; he typed "_**Come on, Dave. I thought you said you loved her? You can't even remember the song?"**_

"Ignore him," Hotchner commanded, his tone quiet, yet firm. "What was she singing?"

Rossi replayed the memory again, forcing his mind to bring back each detail. This time, he was rewarded with the sound of her voice softly singing. He spoke the words she'd sung. "I want to hold the hand inside you; I want to take the breath that's true…"

Garcia let out an excited "Ooh, I know it!"

Reid echoed, "Mazzy Star, Fade Into You."

Garcia quickly typed it and a moment later, Finnerty responded.

"_**You had me worried there, Dave. Hell, you had Julie worried, too. Okay, last question for now. I think we're ready to be alone for a while. You ready for this one?"**_

"Just get on with it, you simple son of a bitch," Rossi hissed, watching as Finnerty walked behind Julie.

Finnerty bent and softly kissed a trail along Julie's neck, starting at the base and working up to the spot below her ear. The spot that Rossi knew should draw a pleased smile and a shiver of desire. Instead, it drew a look of fear mixed with disgust.

With a smug smile directed at the camera, Finnerty again stepped out of the frame. The typing began again.

"_**I've been studying Julie for a while, watching, listening, and observing each interchange she has with other people. I know her pretty well, her likes, her dislikes. But I'm not sure what I need to do to keep her happy between the sheets. Think you can help me out here, Dave?"**_

Rossi knew that Finnerty was trying to work him up and it was working. He rarely felt the level of hatred and anger that he felt at that moment and it was a struggle to contain it. Feeling a hand firmly on his shoulder, he snapped his head to find that the hand belonged to Hotchner.

"He's trying to push your buttons, you know that as well as I do," Hotchner calmly said. "Don't let him get to you."

"I'm trying to trace the IP address, Sir," Garcia said, typing furiously on a second keyboard, "But he's pretty damn good at hiding his tracks, it's pinging off everything."

As Rossi opened his mouth to speak, Finnerty's response appeared on the screen.

"_**I think tonight might be the night. So tell me, Dave, what does she like? Does she like straight up missionary or is she more adventurous?"**_

"I've got him!" Garcia excitedly said, "Little bugger was pretty damn good, but no match for me." She scribbled down an address and held it out.

"Keep him talking," Hotchner said, snatching the paper from her hand.

"What if he asks something I don't know?"

"Call me," Rossi called over his shoulder, as they ran from the room.

_**He who chooses the beginning of a road chooses the place it leads to. It is the means that determine the end. **_

_**  
-**__**Harry Emerson Fosdick**_

He'd taken her to Maryland. A small town called Deal Island, a 45 minute ride from where they landed the jet at Salisbury Regional Airport. Rossi said little on the flight or the ride. Shortly after they took off, Garcia informed them that Finnerty called her bluff and determined that someone else was chatting with him. He wasn't happy and instantly closed the chat box and turned off the video. There had been no further communication.

As Hotchner drove their rental car through the Maryland country side, Rossi kept his eyes trained on the scenery. He was sure, that if the situation was different, he'd find this area as beautiful as he found Little Creek, but his mind wouldn't allow him to process the beauty.

"According to the GPS," Reid said from the back seat, "They should be right up that road to the left."

A sense of readiness set upon the other occupants of the vehicle, when Hotchner made the left turn onto Oak Creek Rd. He parked the car at the end of the road.

"We'll go in on foot from here," he announced, opening the door.

Rossi was out of the car first, barely noticing that Hotchner, Morgan, and Reid were behind him. He carefully made his way up the rural road, unholstering his revolver and removing the safety. Spotting the house, he stopped, surveying the area.

"Someone's opening the front door," Morgan quietly said, nodding towards the house.

They watched, as the front door opened and Julie walked to the door. She was gagged, her hands bound behind her. There was a red welt on her right cheek and her right eye was swollen.

"Where's Finnerty?" Reid asked, looking around.

As if to answer his question, Finnerty followed Julie a moment later. He held what looked like a Glock 17 in his hand, pointed at her lower back.

"I know you're out there, Dave," he called. "I figured you were on your way here. Whoever you left at the computer didn't quite have your conversation skills."

The BAU members remained out of Finnerty's line of site, watching him while assessing the area. Rossi kept his eyes trained on Julie. She was scanning the wooded area, looking for them and growing more frantic with each moment she couldn't find them.

"They're out there, Julie," Finnerty said, using his free hand to stroke her hair. He then called out, "Come on, Dave, quit hiding. Let's settle this thing man to man."

"I'm going out to talk to him," Rossi decided.

"Dave," Hotchner protested, but Rossi ignored him.

"Dave?" Finnerty called again, "What do I have to do to get you to show yourself?" After a moment, Finnerty smiled. "Okay…I get it, you want proof that Julie wants to be with me, don't you?" He reached over and turned Julie's face towards his, "Okay," he quietly said to her, "I'm going to take off the gag, so you can show them how much you care."

Finnerty loosened the gag and pulled it from her mouth. "Now, I'm going to kiss you."

"Fuck you," Julie spat, glaring at him.

"Julie," he said, with a gentle laugh, "Come on; you know you liked it…"

"I said fuck you…" she returned.

Finnerty reached out and grabbed her by the hair, holding the barrel of the gun to the side of her face. "You've got a mouth on you, don't you? Now…you're going to kiss me, get it?"

He leaned in and kissed her, it was a deep, savage kiss. She stiffened, allowing him to force his tongue between her lips, but not returning any of the passion. When he pulled back, he smiled, "That's better."

Rossi walked out of the bushes and stepped into the front yard of the house. "Finnerty," he called, pulling the man's attention from Julie.

"I knew that would bring you out into the open," Finnerty laughed, studying him. "Oh, nice touch, I like the bulletproof vest. Very macho."

"Let her go, Finnerty," Rossi tried, stepping closer to the house, gun trained on Finnerty.

"Get rid of the gun," Finnerty replied.

"You get rid of yours first," Rossi countered.

'You must think I'm an idiot. I drop this gun, you drop me. Fat chance."

"Shoot him, David, just shoot him in the fucking head," Julie hissed, earning Finnerty's hand across her face.

"You see what you do to her?" he yelled, glaring at Rossi, "She was fine til you showed up. She was starting to come around."

"I don't think she's interested, Finnerty," Rossi continued, noticing, from the corner of his eye that Morgan was creeping around the side of the house to come up behind Finnerty.

"That's not true, is it Julie," he said, removing the safety from the Glock he held against her face. "Tell him you love me not him. Tell him you want to spend the rest of your life with me."

Rossi watched as Finnerty's movements became jerky. She wasn't responding as he'd imagined she would and it was unraveling his plans. He was becoming unstable, and as much as Rossi appreciated Julie's bravery, he knew it could push Finnerty to the breaking point.

"Julie," he firmly said, causing her to look at him. "Tell him that you want to be with him."

She looked at him, clearly confused. He held her eyes with his and kept talking, hoping she'd understand. "I understand," he went on, "If this is what will make you happy. I'll stand down and let you go." He saw understanding in her eyes and a moment later, she said.

"Brendan, I do love you," she said, trying to sound sincere. "I do want to be with you."

"Then prove it to me," he challenged, "Kiss me. Show me that you want me."

Rossi watched while Julie gathered herself, then leaned forward and gently kissed Finnerty.

"That was nice," Finnerty smiled, "But I can't let him walk away from here. You know that."

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"For us to be together, you need to be free from him," Finnerty said, pulling the gun away from Julie's face and pointing it at Rossi.

"Brendan, just let him walk away…"she tried, her eyes darting between the two men.

"Don't think so, Jules," he winked, "I think it's time."

His finger moved on the trigger, but before he could fully pull it, another shot rang out. When the bullet hit him from behind, Finnerty looked surprised, but only for a brief moment, before Morgan's bullet pierced his heart and he crumpled to the ground.

They all stood in silence, while the echoes of the shot died away. Morgan got to Finnerty first, kicking the gun out of his reach, then checking his pulse. Morgan looked up and shook his head.

Rossi made his way to Julie in three long strides, catching her just as her knees gave out. He eased her to the ground, and then untied her hands. He studied her face, finding her with a dazed expression. "Julie, look at me."

She looked up at him, eyes wild, darting around. "Is he dead?"

"He is," he replied.

She closed her eyes tight, trying to fight back the tears that had already started. He pulled her into his arms. "It's over, Sweetheart," he quietly said, as she collapsed against him. "It's over."

"State Police are on their way," Hotchner said, stepping up next to them. "We're going to have to get a statement."

"I know," he replied, looking at his friend.

_**Too much happens ... Man performs, engenders so much more than he can or should have to bear. That's how he finds that he can bear anything.**_

_**- **__**William Faulkner**_

He watched her as she slept fitfully, the dark blue and purple bruising on her cheek and eye was a stark contrast to her pale skin. There were only a few visible manifestations of her ordeal, but there was, as the saying went, more than meets the eye.

He had sat near and listened while she gave her statement to Reid on the jet. While she told him of her abduction, she spoke clearly, calmly, as if telling the story of her trip to the mall. She wavered only when she told him how she earned the black eye by fighting Finnerty's sexual advances, and how she eventually lost that fight.

It took every bit of reserve that Rossi had to remain impassive while she described the assault, telling them how Finnerty kept insisting that she needed to relax and enjoy it. She tried, thinking that he'd go easier on her. But her body ignored her mind and his words. When it was over, he lay with her, holding her, telling her that he would see to it that they had a wonderful life. It struck Julie as odd, but he'd actually taken the time to use a condom. He said it was for his protection, until he had her tested, after all, she was the one who'd been sleeping with someone else, not him.

When they landed in Quantico, he took her directly to the hospital. Despite her protests, he wanted to have them check her out and make sure she was physically okay. He remained in the cubicle with her while they examined her and he was alarmed to see the bruises that were forming on her body. Finnerty had left clear hand print bruises on her arms, and most alarmingly, bite marks on her shoulder and breast.

The doctor told them that he hadn't broken any bones, and there was only minor vaginal tearing. They ran STD tests, an aids test, and a pregnancy test, despite the fact that he used a condom. When they were done, they sent her home with a prescription for a mild pain medication and a recommendation to see her physician for follow up.

Julie said very little after they left the hospital. When she walked into the house, Roscoe gave her a very enthusiastic greeting, which drew a smile from her. Rossi offered to make her something to eat, but she wanted only to take a shower and go to bed.

After her shower, he helped her into her silk pajamas and got her settled into bed. She'd taken the pain meds and fell asleep the second she hit the pillow.

Rossi went downstairs, took Roscoe out and set out his dinner. While he watched the dog eat his kibble, he realized that he hadn't eaten anything all day and was ravenously hungry. He made himself a sandwich and sat, alone, in the kitchen, while he ate, chasing the sandwich down with a glass of scotch.

As he rinsed the plate to put it in the dishwasher, he heard Julie scream. Dropping the plate in the sink and turning off the water, he ran up the stairs and into the bedroom. He found her sitting up in bed, running her hands through her hair.

"What happened?" he asked, causing her to look up at him.

"I had a night mare," she sheepishly said, "I guess I didn't dream the screaming part, huh?"

"No, that part was real," he nodded, sitting next to her on the bed and pulling her into his arms.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," she said, looking up at him.

"It's okay, I've done it to you more than enough," he dismissed, kissing her forehead.

"What were you doing downstairs?"

"I went down to feed and walk Roscoe and ended up having a sandwich," he explained.

"And a glass of scotch?" she asked, with a wry smile.

"And a glass of scotch," he allowed, studying the damage to her face. "How's the eye feel?"

She shrugged. "Isn't my first black eye, probably won't be my last."

"Planning on getting into a barroom brawl in the near future?" he teased.

"Maybe," she returned, "Hell, after today? That's nothing."

"Julie," he quietly said, debating whether he should go on. "I'm sorry."

"Don't," she quietly said, moving up so that they were face to face. "Please don't."

"But," he began, but she cut him off.

"This was not your fault; I don't blame you for any of it. It happened, for whatever reason, and now it's over." She smoothed the hair at his temples, smiling, "I swear, I think there's more gray…"

"I don't doubt it," he returned, with a smart smile. "I think it may be the result of being involved with a younger woman."

"Oh, really? She must be something else, this younger woman."

"She is that," he said, kissing her forehead.

"You can kiss me on the lips you know," she quietly said, "Actually; I think I need you to do it."

He didn't question her request, but simply leaned forward and kissed her softly. He was surprised when she returned this kiss with a passionate intensity. She broke it off a few moments later and looked at him.

"Well?" she asked, studying his expression. "Was that okay?"

"It was more than okay," he smiled.

"Good," she nodded. "See, I thought, that after you saw him kiss me, you might not want to…"

"Nothing could be further than the truth," he softly said.

"And?" she said, her eyes boring into his, issuing a silent demand for truth, "Do you still find me sexually attractive, even after…"

"Nothing he did to you changed the way I feel about you. I still find you sexually attractive and I promise you, when you are ready, I will be waiting."

"And if it takes me a while?"

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, kissing her again. "Now, why don't you try and get some rest?"

"That sounds like a plan," she said, settling down so that her head rested on his chest.

"I love you, Julie," he said, kissing the top of her head.

"I love you, too," she said, pressing herself against him.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, listening to the sound of her breathing, and saying a silent prayer of thanks that it was Finnerty lying in the morgue, not Julie.


	8. Worth the Wait

_**Human relationships always help us to carry on because they always presuppose further developments, a future --and also because we live as if our only task was precisely to have relationships with other people.**_

_**Albert Camus **__**  
1913-1960, French Existential Writer**_

Rossi stood on the back deck, looking out over the lake to the final breaths of a beautiful sunset. It was this view that sold him on the house. Sure, the fact that he could hunt and fish right on his own property was enticing, but this deck, with its view, drew him in.

He'd spent many evenings sitting on one of the sturdy Adirondack chairs, just taking in the quiet of the wooded area. It cleared his mind, recharged his soul.

It had been a warm mid- May day, but the evening was taking on a chill. Taking a deep breath, he filled his lungs with the clear air, and then exhaled.

He'd been living there full time when he first met Julie and could vividly remember the first time he'd brought her home. She'd fallen in love with the view instantly. She'd slipped out of bed that first morning, trying hard not to wake him, and slipped out onto the smaller deck off of the master bedroom. He found her there, on that chilly April morning, wrapped in a blanket, watching the sun rise.

The sound of the sliding door opening and closing pulled him from his thoughts, but he did not move from his position. He listened to her footsteps crossing the deck, then, felt her come up behind him and wrap her arms around him.

"I was wondering where you'd gotten off to," he smiled.

"Am I interrupting anything?" she asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Just watching the sunset."

"This was a good idea," she smiled, moving so that she stood next to him. "I'm glad you suggested coming out here."

He slipped his arm around her, "I thought we could use the break."

"So, it had nothing to do with the spring turkey hunt?" she teased.

"The timing was fortuitous," he allowed, kissing her cheek. "Are you sure you don't mind if Roscoe and I go out for a bit in the morning?"

"I was thinking I might join you," she said, waiting for his reaction.

He was surprised by her statement. "You want to kill birds with me?"

"Hunt," she corrected.

He smiled, "Hunt."

"And yes, I do think I'd like to try it. You seem to enjoy it, maybe I will too."

"You do realize that you will be taking the lives of helpless water fowl," he said, trying to keep his tone light, but still confirm her unexpected request to join him.

"Assuming I actually managed to hit something," she allowed.

"Do you remember how to fire the shotgun?"

"It may have been a long time ago, but you were a good teacher," she nodded, then laughed. "I still remember that weekend that I harassed you into teaching me how to shoot."

"You did much better with the shotgun than the pistol," he laughed with her. "Although, I still don't know how you mistook the rear window of my car for the tin can 20 feet to its right…"

"I'll never live that one down, will I?"

He shook his head, "Probably not."

"I promise, this time, your car is safe."

"You're right, it is," he smartly returned, "It's sitting in your garage in Georgetown."

"Wise ass," she said, playfully hip checking him.

"Watch it," he teased, "I'm not getting any younger, I could break a hip."

"Oh, jeez, here comes the old man stuff again," she said, rolling her eyes. "Would you like me to pour you some Geritol and help you to bed?"

He pulled her into his arms, "You can skip the Geritol, but the helping me to bed idea part sounds good to me."

"Speaking of bed," she said, straightening his collar. "I was thinking that since it's getting chilly, we could start a fire upstairs tonight."

"That was a loaded statement," he returned with a wink. It had been nearly a month since Finnerty had abducted her. The physical remnants of her ordeal were no longer visible, although the emotional damage was still clear.

Her nightmares had become less frequent, although they still came. She'd gotten pretty good at falling back to sleep, and was looking much more healthy and relaxed. She told him it was all of the time she spent in bed, wrapped in his arms. It had become a routine for them, to go up to bed early and watch television in bed, just holding each other.

Luckily the few cases he'd worked kept him relatively close and he hadn't needed to spend the night away. They both knew that soon he would hit a case that required travel, but for the time being, they were content with their routine.

She'd been affectionate and loving, but had not taken their interchanges beyond some surprisingly erotic kissing. He was being the ultimate gentleman, letting her call the shots and control their pace. Despite the fact that he'd dealt with countless rape victims during his career, he still could not fathom what the experience was like. Although, he found it increasingly more difficult to put the breaks on his libido, but was not about to push her.

She smiled at him, "That's exactly how I intended it to be."

"What did you have in mind?"

She slipped her arms around his neck, "Well, while you start the fire, I'll open a nice bottle of merlot. We can relax and see where the night takes us." She kissed him softly, "Well? What do you say, Mr. G-man?"

"I say, let's go," he winked, taking her hand and leading her into the house.

_**  
In our deepest moments of struggle, frustration, fear, and confusion, we are being called upon to reach in and touch our hearts. Then, we will know what to do, what to say, how to be. What is right is always in our deepest heart of hearts. It is from the deepest part of our hearts that we are capable of reaching out and touching another human being. It is, after all, one heart touching another heart.**_

_**Roberta Sage Hamilton**_

It was a scene that would have done any romantic soul proud. Soft music, candle light, a healthy fire blazing in the fireplace, a fine merlot, and the requisite man and woman, reclining on the king sized bed.

For all of the times he'd wished he were a younger man, tonight, David Rossi was glad he was not. Through out his fifty plus years, he'd learned patience. He'd found that it wasn't all about rushing to the end, but about the journey to took to reach that end and that any man, who took the time to insure his lover's pleasure, was rewarded with a greater pleasure of his own.

Tantric ways aside, he was simply grateful that he'd mastered control of his own body. Well, most of the time anyway.

He swore to Julie that he wouldn't push her and so far, he hadn't. Not that he didn't try to get a bit further with each step further they'd go; he wouldn't be a man if he didn't. But, when she put on the breaks, he allowed her full control.

Prior to the events of last month, they'd had a healthy relationship. Despite the fact that they'd been together for four years, they had not slipped into the complacency that some couples embraced.

Which was not to say that their time together resembled one long letter to Penthouse Forum, but there were times, when he could've written a good entry. She was passionate, spontaneous, and had as much of an adventurous streak as he did.

Tonight, he knew that nothing out of the ordinary was part of the plan, but he didn't care. He just wanted to make love to her, in whatever way she felt comfortable. Like most men, he could be a very selfish lover, but tonight, he'd gone far to the other extreme. He'd been attentive, focusing on her and it was paying off. She responded to each move and touch, what her soft words and sighs didn't tell him, her body did. She was ready.

Had this scene have taken place prior to her abduction, things would have progressed on their own, with no thought, no fanfare, no announcement, after four years, they both knew the mechanics of their love making. But the playing field had changed, temporarily erasing that familiarity. He hesitated, and she picked up on it.

"David," she softly said, looking up at him.

He looked down to find her large brown eyes focused on him. There was a bit of fear but more trust.

"What is it, Sweetheart?" he asked, pulling a stray lock of hair back from her face.

"We're going to finish this tonight," she said, a sexy smile playing on her lips.

He raised a brow, "I got that feeling."

She reached over onto the nightstand and picked up one of the small foil packets that lay there. "But…" she held it out to him.

"I know," he returned, kissing her, then taking the packet from her hand. They didn't believe that Finnerty had been infected with HIV, but those test results had yet to come back. Despite the fact that Finnerty was protected during the assault, Julie still refused to take any chances. She insisted that until she knew for sure, they would use proper protection.

"You do remember how to use that, don't you?" she asked, using the playful sexy tone she saved for the most intimate of times.

"It's been a while, but I don't think the mechanics have changed," he played along.

"I'm sorry we have to…" she began, but he silenced her with a passionate kiss.

XXXXXXXXXXX

The fire in the fireplace had reduced to glowing embers and he momentarily thought about getting out of bed and throwing another log on. Neither one of them was much interested in gazing at the fireplace any longer, so he voted against it.

"Hey," Julie's voice began, pulling his eyes down to where she rested in his arms. "You're awake."

He kissed her forehead, "So are you."

"That I am," she nodded, studying his face. "How are ya?"

"Good, you?"

"Good," she agreed.

He could tell she wanted to say more, but was thinking it out before she spoke.

"You okay?" he tried.

She nodded. "You've been so patient. I hope I'm worth it."

"Juliana," he quietly began. "I love you. I would have waited as long as it took."

She smiled, "You have to admit, sex has been an important part of our relationship."

"It was and still is," he said, "But you know as well as I do, that there's a lot more to it than that."

"True. But, I guess I was worried that we'd lose the intimacy."

"What have we been doing every night?"

"Lying in bed, watching TV," she sheepishly said, "Not the most exciting thing, I know …"

"I'm not complaining, I'm trying to prove a point, now, may I finish?"

"Go on."

"I've spent every night, lying in bed, holding you in my arms. Unless I've got a skewed sense of intimacy, I'd say we haven't lost it."

She smiled at him, her eyes moist. "Damn it, now you're gonna make me cry. Sometimes, you're too good to be true, David Rossi."

"And you weren't too good to me? You spent the better part of four years putting up with up with the night terrors and the moods."

"Okay, okay," she laughed, "So we're both pretty damn amazing people."

"We are," he mused, glad to see a true smile on her face. In the past month, he'd found himself willing to do anything he could to make her smile, to hear her laughter, to see her happy. He'd been in love with her since the night he met her, although it took him a while to admit it to himself. He supposed that at some point, he did start to take for granted that she would always be there for him. After all, he was the one who had 11 years on her. Logic would dictate that he'd be the first to go.

Lately, however, he questioned that logic. He knew how close he came to losing her and, during the silent bargaining sessions he'd had with God, he promised to never take her for granted again.

"Okay, Mr. G-man," she said, with a smile. "What's going on?"

"Just thinking," he shrugged, not wanting to explain it all to her.

"Uh oh, that could be a dangerous thing," she teased.

"And this from the woman who wants to go hunting with me tomorrow?" he laughed.

"Oh, about that…"

"Changed your mind?"

"Yeah, actually," she admitted. "See, there was a reason for the desire to go hunting with you."

He raised a brow. He knew what the reason was, but wanted to hear her say it.

"I guess it kinda goes back to intimacy," she explained. "I thought that by doing something that you loved to do, we'd get closer. Although, after tonight, I realize that we've already done that."

"And you don't have to go out and kill helpless water fowl to prove it."

"Yeah," she grinned. "You okay with that?"

"I'm okay with that."

"Good, now think we can do the whole lying in bed in your arms thing for a while?" she asked, softly kissing him.

"I think we can do that," he replied, as she settled in his arms.


	9. The InLaws Pt 1

_**"Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door of memory."**____**-Susan B. Anthony**_

David Rossi was not one to sleep late. Most mornings, his body pulled him from his bed sometime before 7. Even when he was "retired" he still woke, for what he did not know. Julie would tease him, telling him that waking up early is what "old folks" do and asking him if he was getting up to go get his senior citizens discount down at the Cracker Barrel. Only Julie could get away with that, anyone else would have probably earned a fat lip.

This morning, even though he was awake, he remained wrapped in the tangle of Egyptian cotton sheets and Julie's arms and legs. She slept, peacefully, her head on his chest, and arm and leg draped across him. Even Roscoe laid peacefully content, stretched out across the foot of the bed.

Rossi had gotten home from New York on Thursday ready to return to working on "normal" BAU cases. Before he could, however, he had to spend the better part of his Friday with Hotch, debriefing the powers that be on how the BAU team successfully thwarted a major terrorist strike. He carried the ball during the debriefing, watching as Hotch struggled to hide the damage caused by the explosion.

Once they'd returned to the BAU, he'd followed Hotch into his office. After closing the door behind them, he told the younger agent in no uncertain terms that he would need to seek medical treatment ASAP or that Rossi himself would see to it that he did. Sure, it pissed Hotch off and he tried, unsuccessfully, to pull rank on him. To anyone else in the BAU, that might have worked, but not David Rossi. Despite the titles on their doors, they both knew who was the senior agent and Hotch begrudgingly promised to seek treatment.

He'd been running on adrenaline and caffeine, something, that as a younger man, he was damn good at. But, he wasn't as young as he used to be. It seemed that once he reached the foyer of Julie's Georgetown home, his body surrendered and the exhaustion set in.

He'd told her the story of his week when he got home on Thursday night. She listened attentively, asking questions, some of which he couldn't answer. When he had finished telling his tale, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him, only half jokingly calling him her "hero". They'd made love at a slow and easy pace, not their usual style, but all his exhaustion would allow. He'd slept like a rock, having trouble waking on Friday morning.

By Friday night, he was spent. He didn't want food, didn't even want sex, he just wanted sleep. She forced him to sit and eat a light dinner, then ushered him to bed. While he lay in bed, she sat up next to him, typing furiously on her laptop. She'd started writing her next book and was in a flow that she refused to break. It didn't matter to him, she could've played rugby on the bed, with a complete team and spectators, and he would have slept through it.

He glanced at the digital read out of the alarm clock on the nightstand, noting that it was 9:30. Pulling his eyes from the glowing green numbers, he looked at Julie. She'd cut her hair last week, while he was away. It was different, shorter, and he wasn't totally sure he liked it. It wasn't that it didn't look good, the style was very becoming, but he'd liked her hair longer. It also disturbed him that it had taken him until Friday morning to even notice. She dismissed it, chalking it up to exhaustion, but it bothered him that such a detail would slip by him.

"You're staring at me," she said, not opening her eyes, "I can feel it."

"So, you're psychic now?" was his wry return, as she opened her eyes.

"Yeah, I'm working the Psychic Hotline in my spare time," she quipped, moving so that they were face to face. "Wanna hear your future?"

"Oh, please, do tell."

"I see that someone very close to you is having a birthday and that you are going to be giving that person many, expensive presents…" she said, a smile playing on her lips.

He raised a brow, "Oh, really? What type of presents would I be giving this person?"

She placed her fingers to her temple and made an exaggerated "thinking" face. "I see sparkling things…"

He laughed, "You see sparkling things every birthday, its tradition."

"Yeah, tradition is a good thing."

"Happy Birthday," he said, kissing the tip of her nose. He reached over to the drawer of his nightstand and pulled it open, fumbling around, his hand finally settled on a long slim box, which he pulled out of the drawer and handed to her.

"I was just teasing about the sparkling things," she mused, taking the box from him.

"I wasn't," was his serious reply. She was studying the wrapped box as if trying to decide what it contained. "Are you going to open it or just stare at it?"

She grinned at him, "Open it…" Sitting up, she tore off the paper to reveal a black velvet jeweler's box. She opened it slowly, then, studying its contents, she smiled. "How did you know?"

He watched as she gently ran her fingers over the antique ruby and marcasite bracelet. He'd found it at the antique store near Julie's book shop. He'd casually mentioned it to Caroline who'd admitted that the bracelet had caught Julie's eye the moment it went into the window. That sealed the deal and he bought it immediately. "You're the psychic, you tell me."

"You talked to Caroline," she laughed, wrapping her arms around him. "Thank you," she said, with a kiss.

"There's more, but you'll have to wait."

She raised a brow. "More? You're spoiling me."

"And the problem with that is?"

Julie laughed, "No problem at all, Mr. G-man."

"I thought you'd see it my way," he nodded, running his finger along her arm, "Now, I think its time you showed me your gratitude for your first present."

Her smile turned seductive, "I think I can handle that…" she said, leaning over him and kissing him.

Of all of the things David Rossi had learned while working with the BAU, the most important was how to compartmentalize his life. He'd learned, for the most part, that he could not let the horrors he dealt with follow him home. He could not allow himself to lie in bed and dwell on what he'd seen during whatever latest case he'd worked. Sure, there were times when he couldn't turn it off, he wouldn't be human if he could, but there were times, like today, where he could totally disconnect and allow himself to live in the moment.

And what a moment it was. He was used to being in charge, having control of most situations, but he loved it when Julie took the reigns during their love making and this morning, she was fully in charge. She'd come along way since her abduction in the spring and he was grateful. She'd returned to the adventurous, playful lover he'd come to know.

This morning, she was especially so. He watched as a smart smile formed on her face and she stopped their slow, sensual movement. Leaning over him, her breathing ragged, she said, "So, have I properly thanked you yet?"

He laughed, "Bitch…"

"What?" she feigned innocence. "Am I doing something that bothers you?"

"You know what you're doing," he said, narrowing his eyes in mock anger.

"Yeah, I do," she said, bending and kissing him. "Sorry, had a power trip there for a moment."

He pulled her close and kissed her savagely, "I'll show you a power trip."

She giggled as he rolled them over so that he was now on top. "That was quite manly."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah,' he rolled his eyes, and then laughed, "I think I pulled a muscle."

"Poor baby…" she said, kissing him.

"Poor baby, my ass," he laughed, kissing her hard, turning the sarcastic smile back into a look of desire, "That's better…"

He was cut off by the ringing of the doorbell, which drew a growl and bark from Roscoe.

"Shit," Julie said, as the doorbell rang again and Roscoe ran out of the room, barking furiously.

"Whoever it is can wait…"

"It's probably my parents," she sighed. "You know they get up at the crack of dawn."

Unable to argue with her logic, he kissed her again and rolled back onto the bed. Julie quickly got up and slipped on a pair of track pants. She grabbed the shirt he'd worn last night and threw it on, then ran her hands through her hair. Turning she looked at him.

"We'll finish this tonight," she promised. "Quietly, as my parents will be in the next room, of course. But we will finish it."

"Go let them in," he said, watching as she ran out of the room. After a moment, he got up and got into the shower.

_**Certain is it that there is no kind of affection so purely angelic as of a father to a daughter. In love to our wives there is desire; to our sons, ambition; but to our daughters there is something which there are no words to express.**_

_**Joseph Addison **__**  
1672-1719, British Essayist, Poet, Statesman**_

If you believed what you read or saw on television, most men had terrible relationships with their in-laws. Most mother-in-laws were shrews and most father-in-laws were obnoxious louts. David Rossi assumed that this was an over dramatization, although, in his three former marriages, two of the three did prove the point.

Julie's parents weren't legally his in-laws, but that didn't much matter. Despite the fact that only 10 years existed between he and Julie's father and 7 between he and Julie's mother, they were, for all intents and purposes, his in-laws. And, he actually liked them and had a very good relationship with them both.

Pete DeVitto was a machine shop foreman in his native Cherry Hill, New Jersey. His wife, Marie, was a high school English teacher. They met while Marie was in her first year of St. Joseph's University and married the summer before her senior year. Their marriage produced two children. Michael, their oldest, also graduated from St Joseph's and was working as a CFO for a Philadelphia based technology firm. Juliana was younger by four years and bucked tradition, choosing instead to attend Georgetown University. She did, however, follow in her mother's footsteps and graduated with a degree in Secondary Education. Prior to writing her first novel, she taught high school English.

From the moment he met him, Rossi liked Pete DeVitto. Pete was second generation Italian American, the product of Catholic School, and a large loving family. He had a raucous sense of humor and a taste for scotch, two things that endeared him to Rossi right off the bat.

They sat, in the living room, sipping a glass of scotch, waiting while Julie and her mother dressed for dinner.

"This is one fine scotch," Pete said, admiring the amber liquid in his glass. "Glenlivet?"

"Macallan 1958 Single Malt," Rossi recited.

Pete looked suitably impressed, and with a laugh, said, "And you're wasting it on a shop foreman from Jersey?"

"I'm sharing it with a fellow scotch lover," Rossi simply said, drawing a smile from the older man.

"Good answer," Pete said, holding the glass up in mock toast.

"Besides, Julie can't tell Glenlivet from Cutty Sark," Rossi smiled.

"My kid drank rock gut most of her life," Pete said, shaking her head, "As long as it said whiskey on the label, she didn't care what kind or who made it. Yukon Jack used to be the beverage of choice."

Rossi winced, "She'd stepped up to Jack Daniels by the time we met."

"With all the damn money she's made off of those books, you'd think her taste would have changed," Pete marveled. "She'd still rather have pizza and beer."

"Don't let her dining tastes fool you," Rossi wryly said, "Her tastes have improved."

Pete looked around the living room, "Yeah, this place is a damn site better than her old place."

"Notice how furniture keeps changing?"

"Yeah, and gets more expensive?"

Rossi nodded.

"Hey, it's only money. She keeps trying to talk us into retiring and letting her support us…"

"Frustrates the hell out of her every time you say no, too," he agreed.

"I don't have to tell you, a man likes to put the bread on his own table," Pete said, "Marie and me are good. We've got what we need and thanks to our kids, we've got more than that. I like my job and I intend to keep doing it until I can't do it anymore."

"I know the feeling."

"You glad you went back to the Feds?" Pete asked, curiously.

"I had my reasons…"

"Yeah, those kids," Pete solemnly said. "But you stayed after you solved that one. You coulda retired again, wrote another book. What made you stay?"

He thought for a moment, then, "I missed it. It's what I do."

"And now you know how I feel."

Rossi held up his glass in mock toast. "I'll make sure she stops asking."

Pete shook his head, "No, let her keep asking. It tickles me that my little girl wants to take care of me."

"She likes to take care of people, she's good at it," he fondly said. "She's taken care of my sorry ass more than I care to think about."

"Bet she fought you every step of the way when she was recovering after that bastard abducted her, huh?" he asked, a trace of fatherly pride in his voice.

"Not at first," he admitted, "But as time went on, yeah. You raised her to be one hell of an independent woman."

"She got that from her mother," Pete laughed. "The only thing she got from me is the work ethic."

"An admirable trait."

They sipped their drinks, taking a moment to savor the expensive whiskey. Pete was the first to break the silence.

"I gotta ask," he said, sitting up a bit straighter. Something was obviously on his mind and from his expression, it was serious. "And you can tell me to mind my own damn business, but, I gotta know," Pete paused for a moment, then, seriously, "Are you ever gonna marry my daughter?"

"Pete, I've asked her, more than a few times," he honestly admitted. "She keeps saying no."

Pete raised a brow, causing Rossi to laugh and hold up his hand in mock protest, "I swear. She keeps telling me she does not feel the need to be the fourth Mrs. Rossi."

"That sounds like her," he agreed, then, "I guess I just thought…ah, what do I know? If it ain't broke, don't fix it, right?"

"If it were up to me, we'd get married, but, I don't have the best track record. I don't blame her for not wanting to marry me," Rossi mused.

"I'm glad you were here with her, Dave," Pete seriously said. "After everything that happened, I mean. It killed me to be back in Jersey, while she was going through all of that, but, I knew you were here for her…"

Rossi was touched by the sincerity in the man's words, "I wish to God it never happened, but there was no place else I could be, Pete."

"Yeah, I know," Pete smiled. Then, with a rakish grin, he said, "So, you gonna stop asking her to marry you?"

"Hell no," Rossi laughed, "One of these times, she's bound to say yes."


	10. The InLaws Pt2

_**Life has taught us that love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward together in the same direction.**_

_**Antoine De Saint-Exupery **_

He watched her as she stripped out of the slim black skirt, allowing it to fall to the floor. She gave no sign that she felt his eyes upon her, although, he knew she must. She always did.

Saying nothing, he loosened his tie while she unbuttoned her burgundy silk blouse. As she eased it from her shoulders, she raised her eyes to his and smiled.

"There's that voyeur thing again," she teased, tossing the blouse into the clothes hamper. She laughed and shook her head, "I cannot believe that you got my mother drunk tonight."

"It wasn't my fault!" Rossi playfully protested, pulling off his tie and tossing it onto the dresser. "Your father kept refilling her glass at dinner."

'Yes, but you ordered the second bottle of Chianti," she reminded, then winced, "And what's really scary is that my parents are probably _doing it_ in my guest bedroom."

He laughed, as she shivered at the thought, "Sweetheart, they may be your parents, but they're human."

"No, they aren't supposed to be doing it. Well, at least not in my guest bedroom," she shook her head. "Ew…."

"And just how do you think you got here?"

"Stop," she protested, with a laugh. "I'm not going to listen to this. I bet they never did this at my brother's house."

"Probably not, your brother's wife is the most uptight woman I've ever met, she'd probably have a stroke if your parents were one third as relaxed and informal as they are around us," he went on, as she winced again, clearly still visualizing her parents. Reaching out, he took her hand and pulled her into his arms. "Stop thinking about it," he said, kissing her softly.

"I'm trying."

"I know how to get your mind off of your parents' sex life," he said, with a wink, releasing her and walking to the dresser. "Your last birthday present."

"David," she warned, trying to look stern, "You've already given me a bracelet, earrings, and that amazing leather jacket…"

"And I have one more gift for you," he countered, carrying a small box in his hand. "You know how this works; I like to spoil you on your birthday. Just go with it, okay?"

"You're making it impossible for me to return the favor on your birthday…"

He smiled at the memory of his last birthday. She'd taken him out to Little Creek for the weekend and spent the entire weekend treating him like a king. He fought her at first, but once she insisted, he sat back and let her spoil him. It was a fun, relaxing weekend and one of his best birthdays.

"I don't know," he said, "A replay of last year might not be a bad way to return the favor."

She laughed, "You liked being spoiled rotten, huh?"

"Yeah, for the weekend, it wasn't too bad," he allowed, then remembering the box in his hand, returned to the task at hand. "Nice diversion, Ms. DeVitto," he said, holding up the present. "Did you think you could distract me and keep me from giving you your last present?"

"Can't fault a girl for trying," she shrugged with an impish grin. "So, what's in the box, Mr. G-man?"

"Something you're either going to love or throw at me," he honestly said, opening the small box to reveal the wildly sparkling diamond ring he'd picked up at the jewelers Friday afternoon.

Julie gasped, surprise registering instantly on her features. He hadn't lied to Pete this afternoon, he had asked her to marry him, more than a few times, but this was the first time he went as far as purchasing a diamond first. He knew the act would shock her and he was not disappointed by her reaction.

"David…"

"Julie, I know you said you don't want to marry me…" he began, focusing on his premeditated line of attack. "And your reasoning made complete sense. I can understand your reluctance."

"David…"

He shook his head, causing her to stop speaking. "I nearly lost you this spring. It made me stop and think. You said that we already live with all of the trappings of a marriage, so you don't think we need to make it formal. For the most part, I agree with you. But there's this part of me that still can't let go of my upbringing. I was taught that when you met the right woman, you married her."

He studied her face for a moment, looking for something encouraging and found it, a softening in her eyes that was subtle. He kept speaking. "I know, what you're thinking. I've already tried that out a couple of times and it didn't work. After the last time, I promised myself I would never let myself get so involved with a woman that I would even think of marriage. And, until I met you, I pretty much stuck to that promise."

"Leave it to me to screw up your life, huh?" she asked, with a wry smile.

He smiled at this, "You do have this way of changing my plans."

"Sorry," she returned, in kind.

"Look, Julie, I'm not saying we've got to go out tomorrow and have some huge crazy wedding, I just want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"Can I speak now?" she asked, her tone light.

He nodded.

"I don't know about you, but I've just always assumed that we're going to spend the rest of our lives together. I mean, we've been to hell and back a couple of times, I'm not sure I'd want to start over with someone else, even if I could find someone who's half as good for me as you are."

He allowed a smile, but didn't speak; he could tell she wasn't done.

"Neither of us has done the marriage thing right," she began, and he could tell she was putting great thought behind her words. "We both screwed it up before…hell, we've got four marriages between us. And out of those four, at least once, we've both sworn that we had the right person and that the marriage would work…and then, it fell apart."

"Julie, I've never had a relationship like ours," he offered.

"I know. I feel the same way. This relationship is different, always has been," she softly returned, then, "Let me see that ring…"

He held out the box, watching as she took it from his hand and studied the ring. He'd spent hours in the jewelers, dismissing many rings before settling on this one. Something about the fiery sparkle on the nearly 3 carat cushion cut diamond caught his eye early on. What took hours was finding the proper setting. He'd finally settled on a platinum band with channel set diamonds. It just looked like something that she would pick.

"Damn," she smiled, looking up at him, "That's one hell of a rock."

He smiled, "You like it?"

"What's not to like? It's big; it's sparkly…yet tasteful and not too gaudy. You done good, Mr. G-man."

"So, are you going to wear it?"

She looked at him, "You really want to do this? You're sure?"

"I wouldn't have asked you if I wasn't," he simply said, wondering if this time, she really would say yes.

"What if things change?"

"What's going to change?" he countered.

"My last name? You're not the only one who has an old fashioned streak."

"Okay, so, besides your last name, does anything have to change?"

"Will you wear a ring?" she asked, almost as if challenging him.

"If you want me to, yes, I will," he nodded.

"Do we have to have a real wedding? You know, with a church and candles and a poufy white dress?"

"We've both done that before," he honestly said, "I don't feel the need to do it again, but if that's what you want…"

"Oh, God, no," she winced. "I don't ever want to go through that again."

"You're seriously considering this, aren't you?"

She gave him a sloe smile, "Yeah, I am…"

"What changed your mind?"

"You, the way you've been since the spring. I don't think anyone has ever cared for me like you do," she softly said.

"So, you're actually going to say yes this time?"

She looked down at the ring and back up at him. "I'm going to ask you one more time. Are you absolutely sure that you want to do this?"

"I am," he said, in a tone reserved only for the most serious of discussions.

"We'll take this slow, okay?"

Catching his reflection in the mirror, Rossi discovered he was grinning like an idiot, but at that moment, he didn't care. Not one bit. Julie was the one person who'd seen him drop his guard, she'd seen him with this grin once or twice before and if any occasion deserved it, this was the one.

"Sweetheart, you can call the shots on this one," he returned.

"Okay," she nodded, then, with a true smile, "Ask me…really ask me, so that I can properly answer."

He thought for a moment, debating whether he should pull the whole "going down on one knee" thing. He'd done that once before, to wife number two, in a wildly spontaneous moment on a crushed stone walk way that left his knees cut and sore. True, this time he'd be kneeling on a hard wood floor, but he still wasn't totally on board with the idea.

"David?" she prompted, brows furrowed, "Changing your mind?"

He laughed, "You want to know the truth?"

"Always," she prompted.

"I was debating whether or not to go down on one knee."

She laughed, "Cute idea, but totally unnecessary. Just ask me…"

He took the box from her, removed the ring, and then set the box on the dresser. Taking both of her hands in his he looked her in the eyes and said, "Juliana, will you marry me?"

Julie smiled, then in a tone nearly as serious as his responded, "Yes, David, I will marry you."

"I never thought I'd hear those words come out of your mouth," he laughed, pulling her into his arms.

"I never did, either," she laughed with him, "You didn't play fair this time…you brought out the big guns…the big sparkly guns."

"Oh, yeah, that. Give me your hand." He pulled back and took her hand, slipping the ring on.

"I should go tell my parents," she said, "I know this would thrill the hell out of them. Or do they already know?"

"I'll admit, Pete did ask me when I was going to marry you," he said, recalling their earlier conversation. "But, I didn't tell him about this. I didn't want to get his hopes up."

"If I had said no, what would you have done with the ring?"

He shrugged, "I hadn't thought about it. I guess I figured this time you'd say yes."

She narrowed her eyes and in mock anger said, "You were profiling me again, weren't you?"

Rossi laughed, "Of course. Never go into a hostile situation without profiling your opponent."

"A hostile situation?" she laughed with him. "I'm an opponent?"

"Not any more," he laughed, kissing her deeply. "Not any more."

"_**Grief can take care of itself, but to get the full value of joy must have somebody to divide it with."**_

_**Mark Twain**_

At some point in his life, David Rossi became a slave to coffee. He couldn't define the exact moment that he gave over his ability to function clearly to the hot, black liquid, but he remembered that he did so willingly at some point in his youth. Back then, it was cool to drink coffee, subversive, even. Now, it was a necessity, an addiction that was legal, but an addiction all the same. Unlike a junkie, however, he could score his fix at countless coffee shops and vending machines.

This morning, and every morning that he woke up in Julie's house, his fix was provided by the automatic Krupp's coffee maker, possibly his favorite item in her gadget filled kitchen. As he stood to pour himself his second cup of the day, he heard the sound of footsteps entering the room. Before he could turn, Pete DeVitto's baritone voice greeted him.

"And this is why we stay here instead of some over priced hotel," he said, with a grin. "Got an extra mug for me?"

"Got plenty," Rossi returned, reaching into the cabinet and retrieving a mug. He filled it full, then turned and handed it to Julie's father. He remembered, from past mornings, that Pete liked his coffee black as well.

"Thank you," Pete nodded, taking the mug and taking a long drink. "Red wine hurts the head."

Rossi smiled, "Poor Marie must be feeling it this morning, aye?"

"Poor Marie isn't even awake yet," Pete returned with a snort. "She was…something else last night, wasn't she?"

"She was having fun," Rossi allowed, filling his own mug.

"She rarely does that," Pete allowed, sitting at the table, "Get sauced I mean, not having fun."

"Sounds like someone I know," Rossi agreed, sitting across from him.

"My daughter is a much different drunk than her mother," Pete knowingly said. "In the fifty years I've known her, Marie has never once instigated a barroom brawl."

Rossi laughed, "Ah, but has she walked through a screen door?"

Pete nearly choked on his mouthful of coffee, "That sounds like something Julie would do sober."

"She was pretty far from sober when it happened," he laughed at the memory, "If I remember correctly, she'd been drinking some very good tequila."

Pete winced, "Tequila. Damn, that stuff is nasty."

"Yeah, she'd probably agree with you now. I think it took her two days to get over that one."

"Someday, when the girls aren't around, I'll tell you the story about the last time I drank tequila."

"That good huh?"

Pete nodded.

"Speaking of next time the girls aren't around," Rossi began, "First duck hunting starts October 9th."

The older man smiled, "I've been waiting for you to ask."

"Can you get the time off?"

"Already put in for it, just in case. You gonna be okay?"

"I put in, too," he admitted. "Unless we catch a case at the last minute, I should be good."

"Well, if you catch something, tell me, I can go into work, it's not a problem," he drained the rest of his mug and stood, "Want another?"

"What I want," Rossi said, standing up, "Is something to eat."

"Breakfast does sound good," Pete agreed. "If I wait for Marie, it'll be lunch."

"If we fry up some bacon, Julie will appear. Works like magic."

Pete laughed, "You know her like the back of your hand, don't you?"

Rossi shook his head, "I know her as well as she wants me to, she's a woman. Me, on the other hand? She knows me like the back of her hand."

"Well said. I gotta admit, When she first told me about you, I never thought you two would last."

Rossi laughed, "Yeah, it surprised me, too." He stopped, debating whether or not to tell Pete about last night. He knew Julie wanted to tell her parents, but he felt a certain kinship to the man and wanted to share the news.

"What's that look for, Dave?" Pete asked. "There something you need to tell me? Everything okay with you guys?"

"Yeah, Pete, everything's good. Real good."

Pete smiled, "You son of a bitch, you got her to say yes, didn't you?"

"She wanted to be the one to tell you," he admitted, watching as the smile on Pete's face grew.

"So, how'd you do it? Or do I not want to know the details?"

"This time, I actually bought a ring and showed it to her before I asked."

"That must've been one hell of a rock."

"It's not bad," he allowed.

"Well, damn, let me be the first to congratulate you," he held out his hand.

Rossi took it and shook it. "Thanks, Pete."

"Ah, the hell with it, we're family," he returned, pulling him into a hug.

Rossi returned the hug, patting the man on the back.

"Oh, God," Julie's voice began, causing them to separate and turn to face her. "Two Italian men hugging in my kitchen. This either means that you've just planned a hit on a member of the Gambino family or Daddy passed on Nona DeVitto's secret meatball recipe."

"Ah," Pete laughed, "There's my little wise ass now."

"Very funny, Daddy," she smartly returned, walking into the kitchen. "So, what did I miss in the male bonding department?"

"When you become a male, we'll tell you," Pete continued in kind.

"Okay, be that way," she said, sticking her tongue out at him and thumbing her nose with her left hand.

"And just what the hell is that?" Pete asked, grabbing her hand and examining the newly placed diamond ring. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Well, if you think it's an engagement ring, you're right," she countered, winking at Rossi.

"So, you finally gave in, did you?"

"Yeah," she said, blushing, "I figured I could only say no so many times before he gave up."

"Like that would happen," Rossi finally chimed in, slipping an arm around her. "You should know by know that when I want something, I don't usually give up until I get it."

"So, what do you think, Daddy?"

"I think it's about damn time," Pete said, hugging his daughter. "Are you happy, Little Girl?"

"I've been happy, Daddy," she seriously said, "This is just the icing on the cake."

Pete held up her hand and studied the ring, "That's some icing. Nice going, Dave."

"Thank you," Rossi laughed.

Marie DeVitto's voice brought their attention to the doorway to the kitchen, "Oh dear God, is that a diamond?"

They turned to find the petite brunette standing there, wrapped in a chenille bathrobe, her eyes wide with surprise.

"And one hell of a diamond it is," Pete laughed, "Come see this, Marie."

"Juliana Maria Angelica DeVitto," Marie sternly said, hands on her hips, "Do you mean to tell me you told your father about this before you told me?"

"He saw the ring, Mom," she protested.

Marie fixed Rossi with a glare, "And you let this go on?"

"I'm sorry, Marie," he laughed, "It was like stopping a speeding freight train."

"Let me see," she said, holding out her hand.

Julie walked over and placed her hand in her mother's, allowing the smaller woman to lift her hand and study the diamond ring. Marie's stern look was replaced with a smile. "This is beautiful," she said, her voice full of emotion. She looked up at her daughter.

"Mom, don't cry, please? You're gonna make me cry…" Julie said.

"I'm sorry," Marie replied, "It's just that I never thought I'd see this day…my little girl is getting married."

"Mom, I've already done this once…"

"Yeah, but this time it's to a guy we actually like," Pete dryly laughed.

"That's enough out of you Pietro," Marie returned, her stern look reappearing for a moment, then fading quickly. "Give me a hug, Julie."

"Mom," Julie laughed, hugging her mother.

They separated and Marie looked at Rossi, "Now, your turn…"

"My pleasure," he said, with a smile, hugging her.

"I would say welcome to the family, but you're already part of it," she sincerely said, as they separated.

"Thank you, Marie; you've both always made me feel as if I were part of the family. I have always appreciated it."

"That's cuz you fit right in with the whole motley crew," Julie laughed.

"Okay, so, we have a wedding to plan," Marie began, looking at her daughter. "You are having a wedding, aren't you?"

"Mom, we've already discussed this," Julie returned, "I'm not putting on some poufy white dress and playing Queen for a Day. I've already done that."

"What about Dave?" Marie said, turning to look at him, "Did you think that maybe he'd like to have a wedding."

"Marie," Pete said, putting an arm around his wife's shoulder, "The man's done it a couple of times already. I'm sure the thought of putting on a monkey suit and dodging rice has gotten a little old. No offense, Dave."

"None taken," Rossi returned. He turned to Marie and in the gentle voice he usually reserved for victim's families, he said, "Marie, Julie and I have discussed it and she would rather not have a big ceremony." Sensing her protest, he continued, "We haven't figured it all out yet, but rest assured, whatever we decide, you and Pete will be there. I wouldn't dream of keeping that from you."

Marie smiled, satisfied by his response, "You," she said, patting his cheek, "Are quickly becoming my favorite." She turned and fixed both Pete and Julie with a glare, "The two of you? Well…you've got a lot to learn from this one."

"Kiss ass," Julie teased.

"Come on, Dave," Marie said, "Let's make some breakfast."

Casting Julie a helpless look, he allowed Marie to lead him to the refrigerator.

"Damn," Pete laughed, "You trained that one good."

"Daddy, he reads people for a living, Mom's putty in his hands," she returned, with a wry grin.

"I don't know about that, Little Girl. In the long run, I think my money's on your mother."


	11. Adventures in Babysitting

_**It is not easy to be crafty and winsome at the same time, and few accomplish it after the age of six. ~John W. Gardner and Francesca Gardner Reese**_

There was, of all things, a baby in David Rossi's house. When he'd had the house built, a baby was the last thing he'd ever pictured there. Yet, there was a baby there and he brought his five year old sister with him. To make matters infinitely worse, they were both spending the night.

He wasn't sure what Julie was thinking when she offered to watch her brother's children, while he and his wife spent the weekend at some bed and breakfast in Williamsburg. Sure, for the first night that Michael and Brynne were away from the baby, it made perfect sense to have it housed within a half hour drive, but did it have to be his house?

Not that he disliked babies or children, for that matter. He loved kids, had a couple of nieces and nephews of his own, but he never felt an overwhelming desire for "alone time" with any of them.

"Uncle Dave?" began a small voice, pulling him from his thoughts.

He looked down to find the source of the voice. Mariana Leigh DeVitto stood all of three feet tall. Her light brown hair hung in soft curls to her shoulders and her large brown eyes held all of the wonder that the eyes of a five year old could. She was cute enough to be on some Christmas toy advertisement. But, Rossi discovered, she had a dictatorial streak that rivaled Fidel Castro, especially when it involved playing with her Barbies.

"What's up, Mariana?"

"C'n we take Roscoe for a walk now?" she asked, batting those big brown eyes at him.

"I've got to check with Aunt Julie and see when dinner will be ready," he said, watching as the miniature brows furrowed. Damn, she reminded him of Julie when she did that.

"She's with Mikey," she dismissed, "He crapped his pants again."

"Mariana," he said, holding back the laugh that wanted to come out, "You shouldn't use language like that."

She shrugged, "That's what he did."

He couldn't argue with her logic, although he knew he should. "Well, let me see what's up with them and then we'll see about that walk, okay?"

"K," she said, picking up a book and settling herself on the leather sofa. "I'll wait here."

Shaking his head, Rossi walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the guest bedroom. He walked in to find Julie dressing three month old Michael, Jr. He stopped, just out of her line of site and watched as she talked to the baby, drawing a drooly smile from him. Michael, Jr, known as Mikey, had his father's brown hair and brown eyes. As Pete said, he looked like a "true DeVitto child". Mariana had too much of her mother's blonde, fair skinned look to be a "true DeVitto child", although, she was the apple of Pete's eye.

Julie was good with kids, something he'd known from the beginning. Despite her firm protestations that she didn't really want to have children, he'd always thought she'd make a great mother.

"Come on, Mikey," Julie cooed to the baby, "Let's go see what your sister's up to."

Mikey must have liked this idea, because he grinned and drooled more.

"We already know that your Uncle David had been watching us," she quipped, still in the cooing tone.

Rossi laughed, "And here I thought I was being stealthy."

"Is that a word?" she laughed, carrying the baby to him.

"Don't know, but it worked," he dismissed. "Mariana wants to take Roscoe for a walk."

"She's been wanting to do that since they got here."

"You think it's a good idea?" he asked, following her down the stairs.

"Yeah, just make sure she's dressed warm enough," she said, as she reached the bottom of the stairs, only to be greeted by Mariana and Roscoe.

"Aun' Julie!" Mariana began, hopping up and down. "Uncle Dave and me are gonna take Roscoe out, okay?"

"Just make sure the two of you are bundled up, it's getting cold outside," Julie said.

"I got my hat and mittens," Mariana seriously replied, then fixed Rossi with a pointed look, "Do you?"

"I don't need a hat and mittens," he dismissed.

Mariana folded her arms across her chest, "Uncle Dave, its cold. You'll get sick."

"Yeah, Uncle Dave," Julie snickered, carrying Mikey into the kitchen and sitting him in his high chair.

Rossi opened his mouth to shoot back a reply, but thought better of it. "How about I just put on a hat, okay?"

"You got one?" Mariana asked, studying him, doubt written on his features.

"Yes, I have several," he returned, smartly. He walked to the coat closet, with Mariana on his heels. Opening the door, he reached in for his well worn Yankees cap, but his motion was stopped by Mariana's voice.

"That's not a warm hat," she said, causing him to turn his head towards her. "This is a warm hat." She held up her knit hat. It was pink and sparkly and had a huge pompom on the top. "You got one of these?"

"No," he shook his head, "I don't."

"Let me see what you got," she said, standing on tip toe to see the hats on the top shelf.

"This hat is warm," he assured her, setting the Yankees cap on his head.

She shook her head, "I don't think so. How about that one?" She pointed up to the shelf, her finger sitting squarely on his fleece lined, camouflage hunting cap, complete with ear flaps. It was great for sitting in a duck blind on a cold morning, but not something to wear for a walk in the woods.

"It's too warm," he protested, taking his coat from the closet. "That's for when it snows."

"It might snow," she said, not giving an inch. "I think you should wear it."

"Mariana," he began, but she cut him off.

"If you catch a cold, Aun' Julie's gonna be mad."

Shaking his head, he removed the Yankees cap and reached for his hunting cap. After putting it on, he looked down to find Mariana's approving smile. "How's that?"

"Good," she agreed, "Where's my coat?"

He helped Mariana into her pink parka, and then helped her with her hat and gloves. After pulling on his coat, he called Roscoe, who came charging to the foyer.

"Does he need a leash?" Mariana asked, as Rossi opened the door.

He shook his head, "He's trained not to run away…"

"You guys leaving?" Julie's voice began, causing them both to turn.

"We got our hats and gloves," Mariana proudly said.

"I can see that," Julie replied, holding back a laugh. "You might wanna put those ear flaps down, Uncle Dave. Don't want your ears getting cold."

Fixing her with a smart look, he opened the front door, "Come on, guys, let's go for our walk."

_**One of the most obvious results of having a baby around the house is to turn two good people into complete idiots who probably wouldn't have been much worse than mere imbeciles without it. ~Georges Courteline**_

It was only 9:30, but David Rossi was exhausted. He would never admit it to Julie, but while she spent her day tending to the needs of four month old Mikey, Mariana ran him ragged. He wondered what in the hell Julie's brother was thinking having children. The man was nearly 47 years old and he had an infant.

"Is she asleep?" Julie asked, watching as he walked into the bedroom.

He nodded, "I had to read her book twice, but she finally went to sleep."

"What did you read her?"

"Goodnight Moon?" he asked, watching as Julie smiled,

"That's her favorite."

He shrugged, sitting on the bed next to her. She was holding Mikey on her lap as he happily gummed his fist.

"Does that fist taste good, Kid?" he asked, causing Mikey's eyes to lock onto his.

"I'm guessing it does," she mused, then, excitedly, "Oh, wanna see something cool?"

"Sure…"

"Watch this," she lay the baby down on the bed, stomach down. Leaning over him, she softly called his name, "Mikey…show Uncle David how you roll over."

Rossi raised a brow, watching as the baby slowly but surely worked his way into a roll.

"There he goes…" Julie grinned, watching as the baby rolled over onto his back and, spotting her, grinned one of his drooly grins. "That's my boy!" she said, scooping him up into her arms.

"You're loving this aren't you?" he asked, watching as she settled the baby into her arm.

"It's fun to babysit," she responded, picking up his bottle from the night stand, "Didn't you enjoy Mariana today?"

He laughed, "She wore me out. I don't know how your brother does it."

"He did kinda wait a while to do the kid thing," she agreed, watching as the baby drank from his bottle. "Of course, he waited a while to do the marriage thing, too. My parents were starting to wonder if he was gay."

"He was just waiting for the right time," Rossi offered.

"Yeah, or something like that," she softly laughed, being careful not to disturb Mikey who'd started to fall asleep. "Once we get him down, we've got about six hours before he wakes up again."

Rossi looked at the clock radio on the nightstand. It read 9:45. Adding six hours to that, he winced, "3:45? Can't he stretch it a couple of hours?"

"He may, he didn't nap this afternoon, and he was too over stimulated."

"Let's try to push it to 5:30, okay, Kid?" he asked, gently stroking the baby's dark hair. "Cut your Aunt and Uncle a little bit of a break."

"If he stretches it til 5:30, you can get him when you get up," she teased. "Should I put the monitor on your side of the bed?"

"Monitor? What monitor?"

"The baby monitor," she nodded at the white plastic receiver on her night stand. It resembled a walkie talkie. "Didn't you notice the base unit sitting between the bed and the porta crib?"

"What the hell? You mean you bugged the kids' room?" he laughed.

"Year, sorta," she allowed. "This way, we'll hear them if anything goes on."

"Great, baby surveillance," he shook his head. "How did our parents get along without this shit?"

"My mother had bionic ears," Julie sniffed, "Still does. I swear she could hear a fly landing on a pillow from three rooms away. Me, on the other hand? The damn thing could land on my head and I wouldn't hear it."

"That's all the hearing damage caused by blasting Motley Crue during your teenage years."

"What?" she quipped, causing him to roll his eyes. "Ooh, I think he's asleep."

Rossi looked down at the baby. His eyes were closed and his breathing was slow and rhythmic. "Looks like it to me."

"Let's see if I can get him to bed…" she said, slowly getting up. "Hopefully, I'll be right back."

He watched her walk out of the room, then got up and changed into his pajamas, finishing just as she walked into the room.

"He's down for the count," she announced.

"Good," he said, pulling her into his arms, "My turn…"

"Your turn for what?" she laughed, as he kissed her neck.

"My turn for your attention."

"Aw, you're jealous," she teased.

"Not jealous, just not used to sharing you with another male," he returned, with a smart smile.

"I wouldn't talk," she counted, "I spent all day watching another female wrap you around her little finger."

"She did no such thing," he protested, as she slipped from his arms.

"Oh really? Okay, Mr. G-man, will you wear your hunting cap any time I ask?"

"Wise ass."

She tried to stifle a yawn, but was unsuccessful. "I know what you mean about being tired."

He watched her as she turned down the comforter and got into bed. Before settling back onto the pillows, she switched on the monitor.

"You gonna stand there all night or are you gonna join me?"

Without a word, he slipped into bed next to her, pulling her back into his arms. "You're good with them."

She smiled, "They're good kids."

He shook his head, "That may be, but not everyone is good with children."

"You do okay," she allowed, "Well, with Mariana, at least. I notice you haven't once tried to hold Mikey."

"Babies aren't really my thing," he admitted. "Once they walk and talk, I'm okay."

"That's fine," she smiled at him, "You kept her out of my hair all day, so I could focus on the baby. I don't think I could've handled them both by myself."

"She's not a bad kid. Inquisitive as all hell and kinda bossy, but she is cute."

"And she's got you wrapped around her finger," Julie teased.

"You are the only one who has me wrapped around her finger," he countered, with a kiss.

"I'm sharing that title with my God daughter," she laughed, then tired to hold back another yawn.

He followed with a yawn of his own, "Okay, so much for that night of romance."

"We can have a night of cuddling," she offered, settling so that her head rested on his chest.

They lay in comfortable silence and he felt himself start to doze off. The sound of her voice pulled him from the twilight of sleep. "You still awake, Mr. G-man?"

"Yeah," he said, forcing his eyes open and trying to force himself alert.

"You were falling asleep," she said, her voice taking on a guilty tone, "I'm sorry…go back to sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

He thought about protesting, but his eyelids were too heavy and sleep was too attractive. Before he could answer, he was fast asleep.

"_**Regret is an odd emotion because it comes only upon reflection. Regret lacks immediacy, and so its power seldom influences events when it could do some good."**_

_**William O'Rourke**_

"So," Rossi began, standing in the doorway to Julie's office. "I thought we could go to Dante's for dinner."

"If you want," she absently said, staring at her computer monitor. "I don't much feel like working on this draft anyway."

She'd been quiet since Mike and Brynne had picked up the kids that morning. A fact he'd pointed out to her, on the ride back to Georgetown. She dismissed it, saying that she was tired and had a lot to do once she got home, but he knew it was more than that.

She stood and walked over to him, "Let me put on some make up and grab my shoes and we can go." She pecked his cheek as she walked past him, then made her way down the hall.

He followed her into the bedroom, watching as she slipped on her shoes. "You're following me," she said, turning around. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, why do you ask?"

She shrugged, "You've been looking at me funny all day."

"I am a bit concerned," he admitted, sitting on the side of the bed.

"About?"

"You," he took her hand and pulled her onto his lap. "You've been quiet since the kids left."

He waited for her to repeat her previous response about being tired, but instead, she said, "I guess I miss them."

He digested this response for a moment.

"Don't freak. I'm not saying I want to go out and have a baby," she quickly said, "I'm saying I miss them. That's all."

"Are you sure that's all it is?"

"Yes," she said, slipping her arms around him.

"I want you to be honest with me, Sweetheart," he softly said.

"I'm always honest with you," she returned.

"If you want children…"

"David, I'm 43 years old…"

"That's not too old for children, Julie," he protested. He watched as her brows furrowed, she was clearly displeased with something he'd said.

"So, what? You're going to tell me that if I want to have children, we'll have children?"

"I don't want to keep that from you."

"Listen to me," she firmly said. "I adore Mariana and Mikey and I love the time I spend with them. Sure, it was fun to play Mommy and Daddy this weekend, but would I want to do that full time? No. See, I love the life we have. I love the way we can do what we want, when we want. I love the freedom we have…" she gave him a sexy smile, "We don't have to watch what we do or say and we can have sex whenever and where ever we want in the house, without fear of a child waking up or walking in."

He allowed a laugh at her last comment.

"If we'd have met ten years ago, things might have been different," she allowed. "I might be trying to talk you into starting a family, but not now."

"If you change your mind…"

"I won't," she said, softly kissing him, "Thank you for offering. Now, you promised me dinner at Dante's."

"That I did," he agreed.

"Good, let's go…"


	12. The Perfect Christmas Tree

"**The perfect Christmas tree? All Christmas trees are perfect!"  
**_**~ Charles N. Barnard, American author, travel writer.**_

It had been twenty years since David Rossi even considered decorating a Christmas tree. Thanks to Joe Landon's evil use of the very axe that the Galen children's father used to cut down the family's last Christmas tree, Rossi had avoided Christmas trees as much as possible.

Julie had gone along with his wishes since he'd taken up residence in her Georgetown home, despite the fact that the bay window in the living room was just the perfect place for a majestic Scotch pine to stand.

This year, he, along with the help of the BAU, had solved the Galens' murders. He'd put to rest the nightmares that had haunted him for twenty years. This year, they would have a Christmas tree.

It was he who brought up the subject, as they prepared their Thanksgiving dinner. They'd decided to celebrate the holiday alone, as the year had been an eventful one and they both agreed that they needed to take the time to decompress and relax before the craze that was Christmas started.

Julie had found a perfectly small turkey breast, which they prepared with all of the required Thanksgiving dinner components, down the Julie's can of jelled cranberry sauce.

As she shook the gelatinous cylinder from its tin can, he said, "So, when are we going to go pick out a tree?"

Those simple 11 words led him to where he stood today, trying to get the huge tree to stand upright it it's brand new stand. They'd been at it for twenty minutes and he'd already taken the hacksaw to the bottom of the tree twice to "even it out". He was just about done with the whole event and they hadn't even removed the netting that held the branches captive. According to Julie's reckoning, that would be the last thing he'd need to do tonight. He doubted her word; knowing that once the branches started to fall out and show the tree's shape, he would be repositioning the tree several times before he was done for the night.

"Well?" he asked, looking up from his position on the floor. "What about now?"

Julie stood across the living room, her back against the wall, eying the tree. "Yeah, I think you have it."

"Good," he nodded, tightening the screws that held the tree in place. He carefully moved out from under the tree and stood, admiring his work.

"Here," she said, carrying his buck knife across the living room. "Cut the net and let's see if it looks right."

He took the knife and began to slice the filament, "Keep in mind, it has to fall out."

"Oh, I know," she agreed, "But we'll get a general idea."

After making a complete cut through the length of the net, he gently pulled it off and watched as the branches began to fall from their bound position into something resembling how it had stood in nature.

"That's one hell of a tree, Mr. G-man," she said. "We may have to go out and get more lights and ornaments."

"You wanted something impressive," he said, pulling her into his arms. "I thought this would fit the bill."

"It didn't look this full in the lot," she worried. "I am going to have to ride over to Target and get more lights and ornaments."

"We can go in the morning," he said, kissing her softly. "Don't worry about it."

"This tree," she insisted, her brows furrowed, "Has to be perfect."

"It's a Christmas tree," he dismissed, "It'll be perfect. They all are."

She shook her head, "No, they aren't. I've seen some pretty lousy trees."

"You've hidden this whole obsessive tree thing from me for the past four years," he mused.

"Of course I have," she replied, as if he were a slow child. "I knew how you felt. I wasn't going to make an issue. But, this year, this is our first tree and, damnit, it needs to be perfect."

"You don't have to do thing to it, it's perfect as it is…"he began, but she cut him off.

"It most certainly is not. It needs lights and ornaments and that new angel we bought for the top…"

He cut her off with a kiss. Breaking it off, he pulled back and said, "If you would have let me finish, I was going to say, it's perfect as it because it is our first tree. I know how much this whole day meant to you. Since we left the house this morning, you've had this smile on your face…"

Julie blushed, "I'm acting like a little kid, huh?"

"It's okay," he assured her. "You're entitled. We've had one hell of a year. I think it's fitting that we end it with some new traditions."

"Well," she said, a sly smile in place, "There's one tradition we'll have to start once the tree is decorated."

"And what may that be?"

She kissed him deeply. "We can start a fire in the fire place, turn off all of the lights, but the tree, lay a blanket down on the floor and…" she kissed him again.

"I like that tradition," he smiled, "We can start it tonight."

"No, there are no lights on the tree yet," she held her ground. "It's got to be right."

"Sweetheart," he countered, and then thought better of it. "Okay, you win. We'll wait until the tree is just as you like it."

"I knew you'd see things my way," she confidently replied. "Now, I'm going to ride over to Target."

"**The best Christmas trees come very close to exceeding nature."  
****~ Andy Rooney**

"What are you thinking?" Julie asked, as they lay nestled between two comforters on the living room floor.

He kissed her forehead. "I'm thinking that this tree is possibly the most perfect Christmas tree I've ever seen."

She swatted him in the arm. "Don't be mean," was her playful reply.

"I'm not being mean," he countered with a laugh. "I'm serious. You worked your ass off on that thing today."

"Yeah, I did, but I love doing that stuff," she admitted. "Now, I can hold the book store Christmas party here."

"I knew there was a method to your madness. Am I expected to attend this function or should I find something else to do that evening?"

"You are expected to attend. Your absence will only be tolerated if it is necessitated by a case. However, if you are not on said case, you will need to be here and play gracious host."

"And when is this shindig?"

"Friday at 7," she replied with an impish smile.

"You've had this planned all along, haven't you?"

"Yup. The caterers arrive at 3 to start setting up and I've actually hired a cleaning service to come in on Thursday."

"Cleaning service? You keep this place immaculate."

She shook her head, "No, I keep it clean; I need them to make it immaculate."

"Are you locking the office door?" he teased, "Or will you be cleaning your side of the room?"

"Hey, just because I'm not anal retentive like you are…" she laughed, then, "I'll be locking the office door."

"Smart choice," he nodded. "I guess I will do my duty and play host with you. It'll cost you though."

"I knew it would. What will it cost me?"

"That will depend on how the party goes," he said, kissing her. "Maybe, you should pay in advance…"

"I thought I just did," she said, as he kissed a trail along her shoulder.

"That was before you sprung the party on me. It didn't count," he said, working his way along the side of her neck, his mustache tickling her when he spoke.

"And you thought my idea of making love by the light of the tree was stupid…"

"I never knew the erotic power of Christmas lights."

"Wait til I show you the erotic power of the Santa hat…"


	13. Christmas Wrapping

"_**At Christmas play and make good cheer, for Christmas comes but once a year."**_

_**Thomas Tusser**_

She had been a perfect hostess, milling about, speaking to all of her guests, making sure that their drinks and their plates were filled. Clad in a slim black skirt and deep red silk blouse, she looked incredibly sexy, yet appropriate.

He did his part, playing gracious host to the bookstore employees and their spouses, making small talk, even signing a copy of one of his books, but this had been her show, her party, and he had just tagged along for the ride.

Now, that the last guest had departed and the catering staff had cleaned up and loaded their refrigerator with what was left of the party food, leaving them alone in the suddenly quiet house, he could see that she was exhausted.

"Think it went well?" she asked, kicking off her black snakeskin pumps and leaving them in the center of the living room floor.

"Everyone had plenty to eat, enough to drink, there was talking and laughter," he smiled at her, taking her hands in his. "I'd say it went amazingly well."

"And we've got leftovers," she said, with an evil grin.

"Which is good, because you haven't eaten a thing all night," he reminded.

"You were watching me?"

"Sweetheart, my eyes were on only you all evening," he said.

Julie laughed, "That was slick…very slick."

"I've still got it," he winked.

"Thank you, for playing host tonight," she said, pecking his cheek. "I'm sure there were a million places you'd rather have been."

"I actually enjoyed myself," he admitted.

"Uh huh," she laughed.

"No, really I did," he protested, noticing how pale she suddenly looked. "You need to eat."

"I am a little hungry."

"Come on; let's go see what kind of leftovers we have."

XXXXX

He woke early the next morning, showered, and after taking Roscoe outside and downing a cup of coffee, he made his way out to do some Christmas shopping, leaving Julie sound asleep.

When he returned around 11 am, Roscoe greeted him at the door, but Julie was no where to be found. Curiously, he made his way upstairs. "Julie?" he called.

"Hey," her tired voice called from the bedroom.

He walked in to find her lying in bed. "Are you just getting up?" he laughed.

"Yeah, guess I really did do a number on myself last week, huh?" she smiled, sitting up. "Damn, it's 11 already?"

He nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed, "I got up, ran out and did some shopping before the stores got crowded. You barely budged when I got out of bed."

She ran her hand through her dark hair, "Damn, sorry about that, Mr. G-man. I wanted to go with you."

"I managed okay on my own; I got that new game for Mariana's Leap Pad and found her this doll thing…"

Julie raised a brow, "Doll thing?"

"Yeah, you know," he went on, "Those little tiny things. This one's about this big," he held his hands six inches apart, "But she's got like a whole mini shopping mall in there."

Julie laughed, "Polly Pocket?"

"Yeah, that's it," he nodded, proud of his purchase. "I remember she was showing me her other ones when she was over."

"Good catch, Uncle Dave," she said, with a strange smile on her face. "What else did you get?"

"Got your dad a new hunting rifle. He was admiring my Beretta and I figured it would be a good gift."

"Polly Pockets and rifles, quite an adventurous shopping experience, aye?"

"Wise ass. If you can drag yourself out of bed, we can head back out. I might even buy you lunch."

"Lunch sounds good," she agreed, slipping out of bed, "Let me grab a shower and I'll be ready."

XXXXX

With the last of their many shopping bags deposited in the living room, Rossi finally removed his jacket and hung it in the closet. He turned to find Julie looking at the huge pile of bags with a satisfied smile.

"So," he said, "Now that you've spent the entire budget of a third world nation on Christmas..."

"David Rossi, between the two of us, we have enough money to last us four lifetimes. If I can't spend a ton of it at Christmas, then I don't want any of it!"

He laughed, "Whoa, there, Sweetheart. Nobody said you couldn't spend it."

"Besides, half of those bags are going to go to the Shelter any way," she proudly said. "The store adopted the shelter as our "sister business" this year. We get to go over and have a party with them next Saturday."

Julie and the women at her store spent a good deal of time and money on the local battered women's shelter. It was a good cause, one that truly made a difference. He'd been there a couple of times himself, and seeing the bright smiles on the faces of the children when Julie and her crew walked in, always helped him put things into perspective.

"Need help with the party?" he offered.

"If you want," she smiled at him, "One of your coworkers will be there anyway."

"Oh really?" he asked, "Who?"

"Penelope Garcia," she reported, smartly. "She's been involved with the shelter for years. We've been working together to plan this year's party."

"And this went on right under my nose," he mused, "Why haven't either of you said anything to me?"

She shrugged, then in a teasing tone. "Didn't think we needed to get your approval."

"Very funny," he smartly said, watching as Roscoe scratched at the door. "Let me go take him out."

He walked to the door and after clipping Roscoe's leash onto his collar pulled open the door. He was surprised to find Penelope Garcia standing on the front step, hand raised as if ready to knock.

"Garcia," he laughed. "We were just talking about you."

"You were?" she asked, curiously. He could see alarm written on the young woman's features. After all this time, she still wasn't quite sure of him.

"Julie just told me you were working with her on the party for the Shelter," he said, hoping to ease her concern. "Go on in, she's in the living room, dividing the truck load of presents we just lugged in to the house. I've gotta take Roscoe for a walk."

Garcia looked down at the dog, who was patiently sitting at Rossi's side, tail wagging. "Hello, Roscoe," she smiled, scratching his head. "Go for your walk, we'll talk later."

XXXXX

By the time Rossi brought Roscoe back from his walk, Julie and Garcia had already distributed the contents of most of the bags into piles all over the living room. He paused for a moment, watching as they laughed and talked. Out of all of the members of the BAU, Rossi supposed he could see Julie as friends with Garcia first. The blonde's free spirit and loving nature was a highly magnified version of the traits he'd found attractive in Julie.

How they got so close behind his back, however, was a bit disturbing. After all, he was supposed to be an expert on people, yet he totally missed this? Maybe she was right, maybe he was getting old.

"You gonna stand there and watch or are you gonna help us wrap this stuff?" Julie said, pulling him from his thoughts.

"Think we'll get it all wrapped by Saturday?" he teased, walking into the living room.

"I certainly hope so, Sir," Garcia returned.

"Garcia, we're not in the BAU," he gently began, "Please don't call me Sir."

"Yes, Sir. I mean, Agent Rossi…" she stammered, then laughed. "It's going to take some getting used to."

"Dave will work fine," he assured her with a wink, "And I see my fiancé didn't bother to offer you a drink. Can I get you something? We had a party in here last night and there's more than enough of everything left over."

"How about," Julie said, eyes twinkling, "You make us up a batch of those killer frozen mudslides?"

Garcia raised a brow, "Mudslides?"

"Yeah, amazingly delicious," she assured her.

"One batch coming up," he returned, heading off to the kitchen.

XXXXX

It was nearly 11 pm by the time they'd finished wrapping all of the gifts Julie had purchased. Apparently, she'd stockpiled more gifts, donated by the store's employees and patrons, in the spare bedroom over the course of the week. As presents were wrapped, they were moved to the dining room and by the time they were done, the room was full of brightly wrapped boxes.

Although they'd been picking on left over party food all day, he ducked out around 7 to pick up take out from Dante's and they took a short break to eat. By the time they'd finished, they were all exhausted and Julie and Garcia were just a bit buzzed from the many pitchers of mudslides they'd gone through over the course of the day.

Julie decided that Garcia would spend the night in the now present free guest room and the two of them went upstairs to make up the bed and get her settled. He was quite alarmed to find Garcia didn't quite fit into Julie's size 10 night gowns, so she would be spending the night in one of his t-shirts and a pair of his sweatpants. He wasn't sure why that un-nerved him, but it did.

Once she was sure Garcia was settled for the night, Julie walked into the room and stripped out of her jeans and sweater. He watched as she deposited them in the laundry hamper then walked across the room in her black lace bra and panties.

Feeling his eyes upon her she looked over at him. "Find something interesting?"

"Always," he smiled, sitting on the bed.

She shook her head, "You need to get your eyes checked Mr. G-man."

"I've got perfect vision," he returned, pulling her into his lap. "Especially where you're concerned."

"Another slick line, you just keep coming up with those, don't you?" she teased.

"Hey, I can't help it if I have skills," he shrugged. "Besides, I don't have a use for them any more, but I don't want to waste them."

"Hey, if you want to go out and use them…"

"Not on your life," he returned, kissing the side of her neck. "I don't have the strength to start over."

"Oh, like it's been such a chore," she returned, leaning her head to the side to give him better access.

"I'm not getting any younger, Sweetheart," he went on, working his way along her shoulder.

"Young women like older men," she teased, "Remember Anna Nicole Smith?"

"Well, when I'm that old, I might enjoy crazy, bleach blond, Playboy Bunny," he mused.

"You wouldn't enjoy that now?"

"Well, I would, up until the moment you burst through the door and killed us both," he concluded with a grin.

"That's what you get for teaching me how to shoot," she returned in kind, kissing him. As she did, he reached behind her and unhooked her bra, slipping the straps from her shoulders. "Hold on there, Mr. G-man…"

"What?"

"We are not going to have sex with Penelope in the next room," she firmly said.

"We'll just be very quiet," he dismissed. "She'll never know."

She shook her head, "You can wait until she leaves." With this, she slipped out of his arms and stood up, walking around to her side of the bed, she slipped into a pair of silk pajamas.

With an overly dramatic sigh, he stood and changed into his pajamas, then slipped into bed next to her.

"Good night, Drama King," she laughed, pecking his cheek.


	14. Christmas Surprise

_**It is the personal thoughtfulness, the warm human awareness, the reaching out of the self to one's fellow man that makes giving worthy of the Christmas spirit."  
**__**~ Isabel Currier.**_

The Women's Shelter Christmas Party was in full swing. The children were running and laughing, full of the joy of Christmas and enough sugar to give all of Virginia diabetes. The mothers, some of them still with cuts and bruises showing as evidence of what they left behind, milled about with grateful smiles, chatting and talking with the shelter staff and the staff of Julie's store.

Julie and Garcia, of course, were busy making sure that everyone had enough to eat and drink and that each and every mother and child had more than enough gifts to remind them that someone cared. He watched the two of them. Garcia, dressed in a bright red sweater over a green swing skirt, wearing a bright green elf hat on her head, laughed and played with the children, embracing the Pied Piper role that had been forced upon her. Julie, who'd gone more conservative in jeans and a red sweater, gave in to Garcia's prompting and donned a red plush Santa hat that came equipped with bells and lights. She alternated between the children and the mothers, encouraging the women to eat and drink, reminding them that they were, for the time being, safe here and that they should relax, if only for a moment and enjoy the event.

He felt a certain pride towards both women, although, he didn't think he had a right. They'd been working on this event long before he was even aware of it.

"Mr. Rossi?" a young female voice began, pulling him from his thoughts. He turned to find a petite woman in her very early twenties. Her hair was dark black, hanging to her elbows in long natural curls and her slim body was poured into a pair of jeans and a green t-shirt. She was a cute little thing, he decided, reminding himself that she was young enough to be his daughter. She spoke again, with a tentative smile. "I bet you don't remember me."

He thought for a moment, and then recalled her name, "Denise."

She smiled broadly, "I would have sworn you'd have forgotten me by now."

"No way," he went on, clearly recalling the woman now. "Forget a fellow Italian? Wait, last time I saw you…"

"I was pretty pregnant," she laughed. "I had my baby two weeks ago. A little girl, I named her Gianna. She's napping in the nursery right now."

"Congratulations," he said, not knowing the proper salute for a birth. "I know Julie managed to pick up all kinds of baby stuff."

"She did," Denise blushed, "And most of it was for me. I'm so grateful…"

"I'm glad you could use it, otherwise we'd have had a house full of stuff," he shrugged, then recalling the story she'd told about her abusive boyfriend, he quietly asked. "Is everything else okay?"

She nodded, but her haunted eyes told another story, "Yes, we're all good. Joey's been in counseling and from what I hear, he's got a job."

"Just remember what I told you," he said, his tone still quiet, "If he gives you any trouble…"

"I know, Mr. Rossi. I have your card in my pocket and I never leave here without it."

"Good," he winked at her, "Have you eaten yet?"

"No, I was going to make my way over to the table before Gianna wakes up. Want to come with me?"

"I'd be honored," he said.

XXXXX

"The dining room looks empty," Julie mused, as he handed her a glass of red wine.

"Yeah, but the shelter doesn't," he returned, sitting next to her on the sofa. After dinner, he'd started a fire in the fire place and they'd relaxed on the sofa, finishing the rest of the bottle of red wine they'd opened with dinner. "You guys did an amazing job today."

She smiled, "Yeah, we did, didn't we?"

"Everyone really seemed to relax and enjoy themselves."

"That was the goal," she shrugged. "We just wanted to give them one afternoon to forget and enjoy the holiday."

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, "You did, Sweetheart. You and Garcia were amazing."

Julie laughed, "I loved it when that little boy told you guys you were under the mistletoe."

"Oh, that. It was only mildly awkward," he laughed, remembering the look of near panic that overtook Garcia's face. To his credit, he placed a fatherly kiss on her forehead, much to the displeasure of the 11 year old boy who wanted to see, as he put it, "some tongue action."

"Well, the picture is priceless and I'm going to hold it over both of your heads for a long long time."

"Evil woman," he teased, squeezing her tightly.

"That I am," she agreed, as his cell phone rang. "Damn…" she said.

The cell phone usually signaled BAU business. He reached over onto the end table and flipped the phone open, placing it to his ear. "Rossi," he snapped, in a tone that clearly told the caller that whatever it was better have been important.

"David Rossi?" a male voice asked.

"Yes?"

"This is Lt Jack Lockerman from DCPD," a male voice began.

"Yes, Lieutenant? What can I do for you?" he asked, wondering why DCPD would call him directly.

"Do you know a Denise Manetti?" Lockerman went on.

"Denise Manetti?" he said aloud.

"That's Denise from the shelter," Julie said, sitting up.

"Yes, I do," Rossi said, knowing the reason for this call could not have been good. "Is something wrong?"

"We found your card in her pocket…" Lockerman said,

"Where is she?"

"Can you come down to Georgetown hospital, Mr. Rossi? I'll meet you in the Emergency Room."

"We'll be right down," he said, hanging up the phone.

"What's going on?" Julie said, her face a mask of concern.

"I'm not sure, but we need to meet this Lt. Lockerman at Georgetown ER," he said, releasing her and standing up.

"Let me get my shoes…"

_**Sooner or later comes a crisis in our affairs, and how we meet it determines our future happiness and success. Since the beginning of time, every form of life has been called upon to meet such crisis. **__**Robert Collier **__**  
American Writer, Publisher**_

Looking back at that night, Rossi could only use the word surrealistic to describe it. When they arrived at Georgetown, Lockerman, a broad shouldered man in his mid forties with blonde, movie star good looks, met them at the ER. Instead of leading them to a treatment bay, he led them to the morgue to identify Denise's body.

It seems that Denise had called Joey from a pay phone near the shelter. He'd told her he loved her, told her he wanted her back, told her whatever her hormone softened brain would accept and she agreed to meet him "to talk it out." Talking wasn't on his agenda. Instead, after what witness described as an animated argument that took place in Joey's Nissan Altima; he pulled out a .38 and shot first Denise and then himself. Both had died before the ambulance could arrive.

They knew that Denise had no family left, having lost both of her parents to a drunk driver nearly 5 years earlier. From what she told them, Joey's father was in prison and his mother had died of a heroin overdose years before. As they drove from the hospital to the Shelter, they planned out funeral details. As they did, Julie, suddenly remembered Denise's baby. They both grimly realized that two week old Gianna was now an orphan.

That in itself was sobering enough, however, what they discovered when they reached the shelter was more so. While she was still in the hospital after giving birth, Denise had written a will. She must've known all along that her relationship with Joey would end badly. Her social worker, who'd left her husband's company Xmas party to come to the shelter as soon as she heard about Denise's death, advised them that Denise asked her to get a lawyer and together, they wrote her will. She had very little physical property, just a few pieces of jewelry that her parents had left her and she'd managed to hide from Joey. All of those items were to go to Gianna. No surprise there.

What was surprising was Denise's choice of legal guardians for her daughter upon her death – Juliana DeVitto and David Rossi. Rossi knew the law, just because they were named did not mean they had to take in the infant. They had the right to refuse the guardianship and the baby would be placed with Social Services.

The look on Julie's face when she heard the news told him that no refusal would be happening. The woman, who vehemently protested wanting a child, suddenly became a protective surrogate mother. She would hear nothing of placing the baby with Social Services, not when they had the resources to give that child a proper home.

Sure, they had the financial resources, but at midnight on a Saturday, they had none of the physical requirements needed to care for an infant. Delores, who was the Shelter president, told them that Gianna could spend the night there, giving them time to assemble a laundry list of items that she and Julie came up with. They would pick the baby up early on Sunday afternoon.

So it was, that at midnight on a Saturday night, David Rossi found himself driving the 10 miles into Alexandria to the 24 hour Wal-Mart and purchasing just about every damn thing that they could possibly need to care for an infant from a crib to baby formula. They'd wedged as much as they could into the trunk and back seat of his Mercedes and he paid an outrageously high delivery fee to ensure that the rest would be arriving at their house by 10 am on Sunday morning.

It was nearly 3 am when they settled into bed. He did his best to sleep through Julie's anxious tossing and turning. When Roscoe finally roused him from the bed at 8 am, he guessed he'd slept for maybe an hour total. He supposed, that with a baby in the house, he would have to get used to running on little or no sleep.

To their credit, the delivery truck arrived at 9:30 am. The two delivery men were pretty decent guys and after Julie blurted out the story of how they came to be making this very large, emergency purchase, they helped him to quickly assemble the furniture.

After tipping them handsomely, he escorted them out while Julie set about completing the spare bedroom's change into a nursery. As he opened the front door for the men to leave, he again found Garcia, hand raised to knock, her other hand holding way too many bags.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," he laughed.

"Don't I know it," she laughed with him, then, her face gravely serious, "Delores from the Shelter called…"

"Come on in, Garcia. Julie was going to call you as soon as we finished getting the nursery set up and she could take a minute to breathe," he assured her, as he waved goodbye to the deliverymen.

"I figured," she allowed, walking into the house. "That's why Auntie Penelope made the emergency trip to the Wal-Mart in Alexandria…" she smiled at him.

"Did you hack my credit card again?" Rossi asked, trying to be stern.

"I'm sorry, Dave. It was an extreme situation," she protested, taking off her coat and handing it to him. "I had to know what you guys still needed."

Shaking his head, he said, "You know where the room is…"

"I do!" she returned, running up the stairs.

Garcia took over the completion of the nursery, allowing them to drive over to the shelter and claim Gianna. After signing many layers of paperwork and arranging a social work visit for that Thursday evening, they loaded Gianna into her brand new car seat and took her home.

When they walked into the house, they were surprised to find that Auntie Penelope had been busy making some telephone calls. While they were out picking up Gianna, "Auntie JJ", 'Uncle Will" and Henry had arrived. Fearing he would experience "baby overload" Rossi quickly invited Will to join him in the kitchen for a celebratory drink.

"Man, talk about baptism by fire," Will laughed in his rich Louisiana drawl. "At least I had a few months to prepare for fatherhood."

"Oh, I had a whole few hours," Rossi laughed with him.

"So now, how does this Guardianship thing work?" Will asked, sipping his scotch.

"We've got full rights and responsibilities for her," Rossi recited, "But, in the eyes of the law, she's not really our child."

"So, you'd have to go through the formality of an adoption?"

He nodded, "Yeah, I don't think any of it has sunk in for Julie yet, but trust me, I was listening to everything and reading every line of every document."

"She's got that "mommy lust" in her eyes," Will knowingly said.

"Mommy lust?"

Will nodded, "It's that glazed eye look they get when they first hold the baby…JJ had it big time at first. A few sleepless nights have toned it down a bit, but it's still there."

"I had no idea how much shit you need to have a kid," Rossi admitted. "We were walking around the damn Wal-Mart last night and every time I turned around, there was some other necessary item we needed to get. And the best part is this stuff is only temporary."

"Temporary?"

"Hell, yeah, Wal-Mart was the only thing open at midnight on a Saturday. I give it one month before there's all new high end baby furniture and the Wal-Mart stuff is donated to the shelter," he said, causing Will to laugh. "You're laughing."

"I'm laughing because I know you're right," Will admitted, holding up his glass in mock toast, "Welcome to the club, man, Life as you know it is officially over."

XXXXX

After Garcia, JJ, and Will left, Julie sat down to call her parents. As Rossi predicted, Marie DeVitto was at first horrified by the story of Denise's passing, but then quickly excited about her new "Grandbaby." Pete, of course, was more practical, he and Rossi chatted for a bit about the future of their newly formed family and what would be involved to make sure it stayed in tact. Rossi assured him that his lawyer was kept on retainer and when the time came, he would call him to start adoption proceedings. Both he and Pete knew that short of some major act of God, that baby wasn't going anywhere. The DeVitto women would not allow it.

When Rossi finally hung up the phone, he looked up to find Julie holding Gianna so that she could look at the lights of their tree. The night they decorated that tree was only two weeks ago, but felt like a lifetime.

He had to admit that he liked the way she looked holding the baby. Gianna's dark hair and eyes matched them both very well; something that he was sure would serve them well later in life.

"You're staring at us," Julie said, with a smile.

"Sorry," he smiled back, getting up from his seat on the sofa.

"I hate like hell how she came into our life," she admitted, her eyes filling with tears.

"I know, Sweetheart," he gently said, slipping an arm around her. "I think Denise knew all along what was going to happen."

"I can't imagine what she went through," she said, a single tear running down her cheek. "I know how much she loved this little one. Even before she was born…"

"Well, if you ask me, she couldn't have picked a better person to care for her," he seriously said.

"Two better people," Julie corrected. "I'm not doing this alone."

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere," he promised, kissing her cheek. He gently stroked the baby's head with his thumb. "Hello there, Little One…"

At the sound of his voice, the baby opened her eyes and even though he'd read that infants couldn't focus; he swore she was looking at him. He felt himself smiling.

"So, do we refer to ourselves as Mommy and Daddy?" she asked, her brows furrowed.

"That's what we'll be," he offered.

"We need to talk about this," she seriously said, "About the future…"

"What about the future?"

"We need to get a hold of your lawyer tomorrow…" she started, then stopped quickly, as if unsure whether to proceed.

"To start the formal adoption procedures?"

"This has all happened so fast," she said, finally pulling her eyes from the baby and focusing on him. "I don't think I've had time to digest it."

"Me either," he said with a soft laugh.

"I don't know if we're doing the right thing, but I couldn't stand the thought of her going into foster care and waiting for someone to adopt her…"

"I know," he assured her.

"I just made the decision…I didn't ask you…"

"Stop," he gently said, "If I'd had a problem with it, I'd have said something."

"So, you're okay with this? I mean, our lives are going to change…"

"I told you when we babysat your niece and nephew, if you wanted a child; I was on board for it."

"Well, we've got one now," she said, kissing the baby's forehead softly.

"That we do, Sweetheart, that we do."


	15. Heading Down the Rabbit Hole

_**I don't know any parents that look into the eyes of a newborn baby and say, how can we screw this kid up.**__**Russell Bishop **_

The whirlwind that was Gianna Manetti had only been in their lives for twelve days and already, she'd changed everything. Apparently, Parenting had one hell of a steep learning curve with many small hidden lessons along the way.

It wasn't that she was one of those colicky, constantly crying infants. Far from it, she was a good baby, sleeping long stretches at night, not crying too terribly much. Although, she did have one hell of a set of lungs, something they'd discovered at 2:15 on the first night she'd spent with them. She nearly blew the speaker out of the brand new baby monitor. They learned that, going forward, they didn't need to keep it at its loudest setting.

For someone who wasn't "into" babies, he was pretty damn proud of the way he'd jumped in with both feet. He'd gotten pretty good at picking her up, holding her, comforting her when she cried and even giving her a bottle. She ate voraciously, as if she was making up for lost time, and most of it actually managed to stay in her mouth. The part that didn't, ended up all over her cute little outfits, the stacks of cloth diapers that Julie had purchased to catch the stuff in the first place, and all over his navy blue dress shirt. He'd noticed early on that much more of the Isomil stayed in her mouth when Julie fed her. He wasn't sure if it was his technique or if Gianna was already working a number on him. Either way, he'd learned after sacrificing the navy blue shirt that he never fed her without a protective cloth diaper.

Despite Julie's worrying, they'd sailed through their first Social Worker visit. Dora, the Social Worker, was one of those pleasant women who always seemed to be calm and mellow. Her inspection of their house was thorough, but not too invasive, her questions were the same way. No matter what she asked, no matter how deep and probing the questions, she remained calm and mellow. Rossi found himself wondering if the woman had smoked a huge joint in the car before coming in, she was just that mellow.

Of course, it was during that visit that Julie realized that Gianna had not yet been baptized. Both he and Julie had been raised Roman Catholic, although now, they'd become what his grandmother referred to as "festival Catholics", attending mass only on Holy Days. They both, however, contributed heavily to the Church Fund, something that endeared them to the Monsignor. So much so, that after they approached him at the Rectory, baby Gianna in tow, The Monsignor agreed to waive the pre-Baptismal classes and scheduled her for the next round of baptisms, taking place a mere four days before Christmas.

They walked out of the Monsignor's office resolved that due to the pending holiday, they may be the only people in attendance at the Baptism, well, short of the Monsignor himself, who would be performing that week's round of Baptisms, and the God parents, of course. They decided that no matter who else was there, they would go ahead with it. Despite her modern views of the Church and the Religion, Julie still couldn't get past her Grandmother's warning that a baby's soul would go strait to purgatory if they weren't baptized. She knew it was probably a bunch of bull, but she wasn't going to take any chances.

Choosing Gianna's God Parents was not something they took lightly. They both retained enough of their Italian Catholic upbringing to understand the significance of the position. To the Church, the God Parents were to be responsible for bringing up the child Catholic, should the parents die. However, to both of their families, the God Parents were more than that. Upon the death of the parents, the God Parents would take over the full rearing of the child, in and out of Church. It took special people to be God Parents and it was not a choice either of them made lightly.

They rejected his brother, Joe, and her brother, Mike, because they couldn't chose between the two and as progressive as the Catholic Church was trying to be, they just weren't ready for two God Fathers. Of course, there was also the fact that Joe was divorced, and his latest girlfriend wouldn't be around long enough to witness Gianna's first birthday, let alone be responsible for her up bringing. Then there was Brynne, Mike's wife. She and Julie "got along", but that was about it. Brynne always resented the fact that Mike and Julie were close and had 40-some years of in jokes, some of which, they didn't bother to explain.

Julie, in a burst of inspiration, decided that Penelope Garcia would be the perfect Godmother. After all, she rationalized, "Auntie Penelope" was the first person to jump in to the whirlwind with them and she hadn't left yet. Despite the slight misgivings that he'd had initially, Rossi did have to agree with her rationale. He knew that Garcia had one hell of a heart and would definitely raise Gianna to be a loving, caring, if not unique, individual.

Julie left it to him to choose the God Father. Silently cursing her, he ruled out Garcia's boyfriend, Kevin. He wasn't sure Kevin was able to take care of himself, let alone take care of David Rossi's little girl. No, Kevin was out. He spent some time thinking about which of his male friends he would trust with Gianna. To his surprise, the answer came to him rather quickly.

Aaron Hotchner was deeply touched when Rossi asked him to be Gianna's God Father. Especially after Rossi provided his reasoning for the request. After talking about the length of time he'd known Hotch, the crises they'd been through together, and the fact that he was just about the most upstanding guy Rossi had ever met, he dropped the deal cincher. He told Hotch how great of a father he was to little Jack.

God Parents chosen, they sent out invitations to the Christening. To their surprise, they would have a full house on Sunday. His brother was driving down from New York, Julie's parents and brother and his family were coming down from Philadelphia, the staff of Julie's store and of the shelter was going to attend and to his surprise, every one from the BAU had responded that they would come.

He'd arranged hotel rooms for his brother and Julie's family and called the caterers. Julie cleaned the already spotless house from top to bottom. Everything was set for Sunday's festivities.

Still, as the saying went, there was no rest for the weary. That morning, he'd called his lawyer to make an appointment to discuss Gianna's future. Having a law firm on a very large retainer was a wonderful thing. Instead of them traveling to their downtown DC office during the day, Lou LoPresti, one of the partners would personally come to them, that evening, to discuss things in their home. And who said money didn't bring privileges, he mused.

He and Julie had both met Lou numerous times and found him to be an honest yet sympathetic man, and one hell of a litigator. Rossi could tell Julie was relieved to find him standing at their door. She was nervous about this whole thing and seeing a familiar face helped to calm her, if only a bit.

Once Lou had shed his overcoat and made the appropriate fuss over Gianna, they'd all sat down in the living room to discuss her future. Julie held Gianna, who peacefully took it all in. She seemed to enjoy being around people, especially when they were talking. Even though she didn't have any comprehension of what they were saying, she seemed to enjoy the voices.

"I have to tell you," Lou said, sincerely, "This is an amazing thing you're doing here. Not many people would take her in like this."

"We want to do right by her," Rossi said, exchanging a smile with his fiancé. "That's why we called you."

"I'm glad you did," Lou went on. "Right now, the Guardianship is pending in the court."

This drew alarm from Julie, "What? You mean we aren't the guardians yet?"

"Relax," he smiled, "You are, it just needs to be signed by the judge. The petition was waiting in the pile with some other family court issues. When Dave called me, I got a hold of Justice Brennan and it's now on the top of the pile. He'll be sign it in the morning."

"Thank you, Lou," Julie replied, visibly relaxing.

"So, after tomorrow," Lou went on, "You will have all legal rights and responsibilities for that beautiful little baby. But the big question is, what do you want for the future? As it stands right now, you can remain her guardians until she turns 18. However, you do have the freedom to break the guardianship at any time and she will become a ward of the court."

Rossi watched as Julie's expression told him exactly what she thought of that option. Lou must have picked up on it as well, because he continued, "Then, there's the option of adoption."

"What's involved in the adoption?" Rossi asked, watching as Julie's furrowed brows smoothed.

"A whole lot of paperwork," Lou smiled, "But, for a couple of writers, the paperwork shouldn't be too daunting."

"Hey, I work for the government," Rossi laughed with him.

"So…what kind of paperwork?" Julie prompted.

"We can get the preliminary petition filled out and filed with family court asap. Once that's done, it goes to Children and Family Services and they will begin the adoption process. Once you're placed with a Social Worker, they will request written autobiographies, financial records, and will perform a criminal and child abuse back ground check. Then, once all of that has been filed and approved, there's the home study."

"Home study?" Julie asked, brow raised. "We just had one."

"This one is different," Lou explained, "It's a bit more in depth."

"I'm getting the picture that you see an issue here," Julie said.

Lou looked at Rossi and with a smile said, "I thought you were the profiler." He turned back to Julie, "Not an issue, per se, Julie. Adoption approval is based on numerous items. The two of you far surpass most of them."

"But?" she asked, her eyes darting between Lou and Rossi.

"The only thing I can see that would be negatives in your case would be Dave's age and his job," he finally said. Watching as Julie's brows again furrowed, Lou continued, "Usually, the state has a 45 year age limit between the parent and child. You are well within the age limit, Julie, which is a positive thing."

"And the job?" she asked.

"Again, I believe you balance him out. There's no denying that he's got a dangerous job."

"That's so unfair," she said, ire raised. "How dare they say he can't adopt her because he's a Federal Agent. Don't they realize how many children he's saved through out his career?"

"Sweetheart," Rossi began, calmly, placing his hand on her arm, "Calm down. Lou didn't say they were going to reject us, he said that those were the two negatives."

"Right," Lou agreed, "In your favor are the fact that you're far beyond financially secure, you're a committed couple, who are both well respected in your community. Your families are supportive…"

"But there's a chance they might deny us?" Julie went on.

"I would be highly surprised if they do," Lou honestly said. "I've seen parents with far less qualifications adopt children. And, the most important thing to remember is, Denise chose you. The judge will definitely weigh that heavily in your favor. Plus, by the time your case is finally brought to hearing, you will have had the mandatory six month live in period. Immediately proceeding the trial, they do an interview with you and observe your interactions with the child. I have no doubt that you two will ace that. Usually, any doubts that a judge may have had can be either confirmed or erased with that interview and observation."

Julie took a deep breath and released it slowly, "So, do you recommend going through with this? You really think we have a chance?"

Lou nodded, with a broad smile, "Like I said, I cannot see any one denying you."

Rossi had been watching Julie through out the entire interchange. When she turned her eyes to him, he saw worry and doubt, something he was not used to seeing in her eyes.

"What do you think, David?" she asked, her voice gravely serious.

"I think," he began, with a smile, "That we need to do this."

"But, even if there's a chance…" she protested, but he cut her off.

"Sweetheart, I can't change my age or my job," he sincerely said, "But, you know as well as I do, we've got a perfectly good, loving home and family for that little girl and by the time they do that final observation, I cannot imagine anyone saying anything different."

"I can tell you," Lou said, with a fond smile, "If I didn't know that Gianna wasn't your biological child, I would never have suspected it."

Julie allowed a smile, "Okay, if you two think this will work."

"What's the worst that could happen?" Rossi asked, "They say no? We'll still be her guardians and we can always appeal their decision. Right, Lou?"

"Exactly," Lou agreed, then, in a conspiratorial tone, "Julie, you know me, so you will understand the weight of this offer…if, by some strange stroke of fate, they deny your original petition for adoption, I promise you, I will process your appeal, and any further appeals pro bono."

Julie laughed, "A lawyer offering to work for free? Damn, I guess I need to stop worrying."

"Good, then I'll have a courier deliver the paperwork tomorrow. If you can complete it and have it back to my office by Monday, I'll get it filed and into the judge's hands before Christmas."

"Okay," Julie said, "Let's do it."

And with those three simple words, they began their journey down the legal rabbit hole that was Gianna's adoption.


	16. Familiy Dinner

"_**The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life."**_

_**Richard Bach**_

As he walked past Gianna's room, Rossi heard the fussing sounds he'd come to identify as "pre-cry" noises. Walking into the room, he said, "Good Morning, Gianna. How's my little girl?"

He watched as she turned her head to the sound of his voice. Now, nearly a month old, the pediatrician confirmed Rossi's opinion that she not only recognized their voices, but also their faces. As he walked closer, she smiled and made a sound somewhere between a gurgle and a coo. That one, she'd started two days ago when he kissed her goodbye on his way to work. Sure, she'd made similar sounds for Julie, but he got the first one.

Roscoe looked up at him from his position near the crib. He'd abandoned sleeping in their room the night Gianna arrived. According to Julie, Roscoe rarely left Gianna's side during the day. Rossi wondered what kind of a bird dog he'd be next time they went out to Little Creek to hunt.

"I'm happy to see you, too, Boy" he said, scratching Roscoe behind both ears.

"Let me get Gianna up and dressed and I'll take you for a walk, okay?" he said, lifting Gianna out of the crib, only to discover she was soaking wet. "We've got to work on those bladder control issues, Little One," he sighed.

"Did she soak the whole crib?" Julie asked walking into the room. Roscoe walked over to greet her, receiving a ruffle behind the ears and a kiss to the top of the head.

"I haven't gotten that far yet," he winced, carrying her to the changing table. "What did you do, you silly little girl?" he asked, causing her to grin, gurgle and kick her feet. "Quite obviously, you're proud of this."

"Of course she is," Julie laughed, "She feels better and she managed to mark her territory. Good, only the sheets got it this time. You want to change her or the bed?"

"I've got her," he dismissed, unsnapping Gianna's sleeper. He looked over his shoulder to find Julie watching him, with a smile. "What?"

"For someone who didn't "do" babies, you're getting pretty damn good with her," she observed.

"That's only because she's such a good baby," he said, kissing Gianna on the forehead.

"You are so baby whipped," she shook her head, pulling the wet sheets from the bed.

"Your mom is being very silly, Gianna," he said, as he removed the baby's sleeper and tossed it into the wicker laundry hamper.

"Okay," Julie laughed, depositing the sheets in the hamper, "If you say so."

"What time are your parents getting here?"

"They left at 6," she laughed, "So, they'll be here any minute. Mike and Brynne will probably cruise in around 3 or 4 and go straight to the hotel before coming to dinner. When's Joe getting in?"

"Knowing him? Lunch time. I made the mistake of telling him your parents were getting here early, so he'll be here to catch the lunch meat from Tonelli's."

"Stop it," she laughed, spraying the mattress with Lysol, then putting new, clean sheets on the bed. "He lives in Brooklyn; he can get better stuff than Tonelli's sells."

"Yeah, but it's not free," he continued in kind. Then, "Do you have a preference on what she wears?"

"Yeah, put on something my folks got her," she said, looking up.

"Sweetheart, I have no idea who bought what…"

Julie shook her head in mock disgust, "Jeez, you'd think you had something else to do with your life or something." She opened the closet and took out a little pink outfit that hung on a miniature hanger. "This one will work."

He took the hanger from her hand. "Did anybody buy her something that is not pink?"

"Yeah, me," she said. "And I have forbidden Auntie Penelope from purchasing anything else in pastel pink." Her lips twisted into an evil grin and she pulled out a hot pink and black polka dotted sleeper, "Which is where this came from. I love it!"

"You're turning my daughter into a fasionista," he shook his head, dressing her quickly. "There, all dressed and ready for breakfast."

As Julie opened her mouth to speak, Roscoe began to growl.

"That's probably my parents," she said, watching as Roscoe ran from the room. A moment later, the doorbell rang, confirming her thought.

XXXXX

Once again, the house was filled with people, and once again, Rossi found himself playing gracious host. This time, it was only family and friends, a smaller group than would be arriving tomorrow for the Christening Party, but a good sized group all the same.

It was Julie's idea to have their family come to dinner tonight, she rationalized that since they had to put them up in a hotel, at least they owed them a good home cooked meal. She invited Garcia and Hotch as well, seems her mother wanted to meet the people they picked as Godparents for her newest grandchild.

Garcia, not surprisingly, had come in, met everyone and joined in on the prep work in the kitchen. Rossi remembered big family dinners growing up and always marveled at how the women ended up in the kitchen and the men in the living room.

Hotch had brought Jack with him and Mariana had become his best friend. The two of them traveled in and out of both rooms, admiring the Christmas tree, whose presents Julie had him hide, so as not to spoil the Santa Claus myth for Jack and Mariana, and then scampering off into the kitchen to try to snitch another cookie.

Marie DeVitto had taken up residence in the kitchen, helping Julie to prepare a huge Italian meal. She was already pissed that they had called a caterer for tomorrow's party, despite of the amount of people they'd expected. When she offered to make dinner for tonight, they couldn't say no without seriously insulting her. So, she stood, in all of her glory, making something that smelled amazing.

"Damn, Dave," his brother Joe began, a teasing twinkle in his eye. "You got yourself one hell of a set up this time. Knock out wife, nice house…cute kid. You really fell into the shit this time."

"I keep telling him that," Pete DeVitto laughed, carrying Gianna into the room.

"How'd you manage to get her away from the women?" Rossi asked.

"When Pop Pop wants the baby, Pop Pop gets the baby," Pete said, making a silly face at Gianna, who cooed and gurgled at him.

"Pop Pop," Mariana called, "I wanna hold her!"

"When Aunt Julie finally sits down, okay?" Pete promised.

"Uncle Dave," Mariana went on, walking over to him and fixing her with one of her raised brow looks. "Dat's your baby too, right?"

"Yes, Mariana, she's mine, too," he returned.

"Did she come outta Aunt Julie's tummy like Mikey came outta Mommy's?" she asked.

Rossi looked over at Julie's brother Mike, who gave him a nod, before he said, "No, Mariana, she didn't."

Clearly curious, Mariana looked at him in disbelief, "Then where did she come from?"

"Mariana," Mike said, "Remember we talked about this on the way down?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, what did I tell you about Gianna?"

"That she came outta some other lady's tummy but Aunt Julie and Uncle Dave are…." She stopped, trying to remember the word, "Dopting her."

"Adopting her," Mike gently corrected.

"But wait," Mariana went on, "Why didn't they just get one out of Aunt Julie's tummy?"

"Mariana," Mike said, rolling her eyes.

"I got this one, Mike," Rossi laughed, then, to Mariana, "Because, Gianna's mommy and daddy died. See, Gianna's mommy loved her very much, so before she died, she asked us to take care of her and be her family."

Mariana digested this, "So now, you're her Daddy and Aunt Julie is her Mommy?"

Rossi nodded.

"And I'm her sister!"

"No, Mariana," Mike laughed, "You're her cousin."

"And Jack's her cousin, too?"

"No," Mike shook his head, "Jack is Aaron's son, he's a friend of Uncle Dave's."

Jack, who had remained silent through all of this finally said, "I don't got a cousin."

"You can be my cousin, Jack," Mariana decided, taking his hand, "Come on, let's go play Barbie's." With that, she led him away.

Mike looked over at Hotch, who had been taking in the whole scene with an amused smile, "Man, you'd better stop him…she'll whip him into being the redheaded Barbie…she makes all the boys be the redhead."

Hotch laughed, "Knowing Jack? He'll be using Barbie as a baseball bat before he dresses her."

"I don't know, Hotch," Rossi went on, "I've played Barbie's with her and she had ME dressing the redhead."

"Like undressin' a redhead was something you've never done," Joe cracked, causing the men to laugh.

XXXXX

It was nearly 11 by the time that Julie, her mother, and Garcia finished cleaning up and made their way into the living room. Mike and Brynne had left around 9, taking the kids back to the hotel and putting them to bed. Hotch and Jack left shortly there after. Pete, Joe, and Rossi all sat in the living room, admiring the roaring blaze they'd set in the fire place and putting a serious dent in a bottle of Glenlivet 1943 that Joe had brought as a baby gift for his younger brother.

"I knew we'd find them in here," Marie said, with a wry smile, "Boozing it up."

"Not boozing it up, Marie," Pete corrected, "We're celebratin' the birth of my grandchild."

"Yeah, that's it," Julie laughed, walking over to where Rossi sat. "Can I have a taste?"

He held up the glass and she downed the rest of it.

"That's one hell of a sip, Jules," Joe laughed.

"Sip? Shot? What's the difference?" Julie laughed, sitting on the sofa next to Joe.

"The difference is, I've got an empty glass," Rossi smartly returned, standing and walking to the bar cart, "Can I fix something for you, Ladies?"

"I'm good, Dave," Garcia said, "I don't want to be known as the hung over God Mother."

"Marie?" he asked.

Marie shook her head, "I'm going to be driving this one home," she said, jerking her thumb at Pete.

"Hey, last time we were here, I seem to remember you had a bit too much Chianti…" Pete teased.

"He's got you there, Mom," Julie laughed.

"Fine, but just remember, Pietro, if you pass out, I'm going to shave your mustache," was Marie's retort.

"You keep threatening to do that, Girlie," he returned, "But you know you love it…"

"Dad, just stop right there," Julie said with a grimace. "I don't want to hear any more."

"Penelope, you've got to excuse this bunch," Marie said. "They tend to get out of hand."

"Its okay, Mrs. DeVitto, I can handle it," Garcia replied.

"You made a good choice for Gianna's God Mother," Marie said to Julie, then to Garcia, "Penelope, you're part of the family now. So that means, if you ever get up to Cherry Hill, our door is always open to you."

"Thank you, Mrs. DeVitto," she blushed. "I really appreciate that."

"And you, Joseph…" Marie said, fixing the elder Rossi with a glare, "Why haven't we seen you lately?"

"I been busy, Marie," he shrugged, "its hockey season. As it is, I had to get one of the guys to take last night and tonight's road games."

"What team do you write for again?"

"The Islanders…"

Marie nodded, "This means you were in town back on the 9th and you didn't come to visit…"

"Or at least score us good seats," Pete laughed.

"Marie, I didn't know you were a hockey fan," Joe laughed.

"I love my Flyers," she solemnly said, "So, since the Islanders are in town on the 14th, can I assume you'll be coming for lunch before the game?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Joe nodded.

"Good answer, Joe," Rossi laughed.

"Good, now, Peitro, we'd better head back to the hotel," she decided, then looked at Joe. He didn't need to be driving any more than Pete did and Marie knew it. "Come on, Joe. I'll pour your ass into the hotel too."

"You sure you can handle the both of us, Marie?"

"I may be short, but I can kick your butt any day of the year," she winked. "Let's go, Boys."

After saying their good byes, Marie, Pete, and Joe left. As Rossi shut the door, he turned to find Garcia slipping on her coat.

"You leaving us too, Garcia?"

"Yeah, I need a little bit of beauty sleep," she smiled, studying him. She opened her mouth to speak, but must've thought better of it.

"What were you going to say?" he asked, with a smile.

"No, not gonna go there…" she laughed.

"Come on, Penelope," he said, "Spill it."

She thought for a moment, then, "Okay…I was thinking back to the night that you came barreling into my apartment…"

"I really am sorry about that," he said, with a laugh.

"That's water under the bridge," she dismissed, "I was thinking that if you'd have told me, that night, that I'd be god mother to your child, I'd have laughed in your face."

"If you'd have told me that night that I'd even have a child," he shook his head.

"She's a beautiful baby, Dave," Garcia sincerely said, "You guys were amazing together before she came around, but now…it's like you're complete."

"You think so?" he mused.

She nodded and gave him a wink, "Yeah, I do. And I'm damn proud to stand up for that little girl, too." She impulsively stood up on tip toe and pecked his cheek. "Thank you."

Surprising her, he hugged her. "No, thank you." He said, releasing her. "I know I can be an overbearing ass at work sometimes…"

"Trust me, I don't take any of it to heart," she admitted.

"Good, promise me you never will," he sincerely said.

"I promise," she returned with a smile. "Now, I need to get home and get to bed. I'll see you tomorrow morning, okay?"

"Be careful driving home, it's late…"

"I'm okay, I haven't been drinking," she assured him, walking out the door. "See you in the morning."

Rossi waited until she drove off before shutting the door, then turned and made his way upstairs.


	17. One Of Those Nights

"**What good mothers and fathers instinctively feel like doing for their babies is usually best after all."**

**Benjamin Spock**

He supposed that this was one of those nights that they'd all warned them about. The nights where no one slept. The nights where they would question their parenting abilities, doubt their sanity, and seriously wonder what in the hell they were doing.

Gianna had been a happy, healthy child since the moment she arrived in their home. She slept mostly through the night, she ate like a champ, and she grew in leaps and bounds. She'd been the best Christmas present they could have asked for; despite of the way they came upon her.

January went by in a blur. He'd been away a total of 15 days during the month, between catching a case and doing some consulting work. He was surprised at how much he missed being home. Sure, he missed Julie while he was out of town, but their evening telephone calls would help with that. Gianna, however, could not get on the phone and talk. Sure, Julie held the phone to her ear and told him that she smiled when she heard his voice, but that didn't make up for not being there.

He wondered at what point he gave over his soul to this small being. He didn't notice it while it was happening, but she held his heart in the palm of her tiny little hand. And now, that tiny little hand was balled into a fist, pounding at his chest while she cried.

"Okay…I've got the thermometer," Julie began, walking into the nursery, holding a plastic device that looked like an old cell phone.

"What the hell is that?" he asked, as she approached them, holding the device in her hand.

"The thermometer," she said, placing the small nub on the side of the device in the baby's ear. "Come on, Gianna," she soothed, "This will just take a minute…" She watched the device, her eyes growing wide.

"What? What's wrong?" he asked, unable to see what Julie was looking at.

The thermometer beeped and Julie pulled it from the baby's ear, "103.5."

"That's it, we're going to the hospital," he decided.

"David, calm down," she said, "I've got a call into Dr. Manson's office."

"Whatever possessed you to take her to a pediatrician named Charles Manson?"

"Aaron Hotchner recommended him," she shot back, her tone telling him that his words had been a bit too sharp. "He's a damn good doctor, too. So let's not worry about his name, okay? At least it's not John Wayne Gacy."

If he wasn't so worried about the baby, he would have laughed at her last remark. He supposed that once this crisis had passed, they would share a laugh over it, but that would be later, much later.

"Come on, Little One," he soothed, stroking the baby's back, "its okay…" As those words left his mouth, Gianna started to sputter, then cough. He held her up right and just as her head reached his shoulder, the coughing produced a stream of what he surmised had to be her dinner. "Shit…" he tiredly said, feeling the warm wetness down his back. Gianna, having evacuated the contents of her stomach, resumed crying. "I'm right with you, Kid" Rossi said.

"Here," Julie replied, holding out her arms, "Let me take her. Go change your shirt."

He handed over the baby, who's crying did not vary with the change of arms. As he walked out of the nursery towards the master bedroom, the phone rang. Knowing that Julie had her hands full, he walked back into the nursery and lifted the cordless phone.

After having him describe Gianna's symptoms, Dr Manson advised that he would like them to take her down to the Emergency Room to be checked out. Promising the doctor that he would deliver her there as soon as safely possible, he hung up the phone and looked at the handset. Wondering just how he was going to inform Julie, he quickly changed into a pair of jeans and a hooded sweatshirt.

"So?" Julie asked, carrying the temporarily silent Gianna into the bedroom. "What did he say?"

"She stopped crying," he said, alarmed at her sudden silence.

"She exhausted herself, I think," Julie said, casting a wary eye at the baby who was now sleeping in her arms. "She's still burning up."

"He wants us to take her to the emergency room," he said, deciding that direct delivery was the best thing.

Julie processed the information for a moment, then nodded, ready to take action. "Here, you hold her and I'll get dressed."

XXXXX

It was nearly three am and the last place he wanted to be was sitting in the waiting area of Georgetown Hospital's Emergency Room. They'd been there for a full hour and so far no one had done anything but take Gianna's temperature and gotten all of his insurance information.

Gianna had gone from a warm, screaming baby to a hot, drowsy, restless baby. He wasn't a doctor, but he knew something wasn't good about that change. Julie tried hard to remain calm. She wasn't a woman prone to irrational emotions, but he could see the fear trying to take hold of her.

"I'm going to go see what the hold up is," he decided, standing up.

"David, you've asked them three times already," she sighed.

"I understand that, Julie," he firmly said, his tone low, "But it's been an hour and we've got a sick infant. They should have seen her by now." With that, he walked to the desk.

The clerk, a weathered older woman, who'd obviously seen many first time fathers come to her window looked up, "Your daughter is next, Mr. Rossi, I promise."

"That's what you said last time I came up here," he insisted.

"Please understand that we know how upset you are, but we just had a major trauma situation. They've managed to wrap it up and our staff pediatrician is just cleaning up."

"My daughter is burning up with fever," he went on, wondering why he kept talking to this woman. "I'd like someone to do something about it."

"And we will," she assured, maintaining a damnable calm voice that made him want to throttle her.

As he opened his mouth to reply, a male nurse walked to the double doors and called Gianna's name.

"That's us," Julie replied, standing and walking to the doors.

"If you'll follow me, Mrs. Manetti," he said.

"DeVitto," Julie corrected, automatically. "Her last name is Manetti, mine is DeVitto."

"I'm so sorry Ma'am," he smiled, graciously, turning to Rossi, "And you're Mr. DeVitto?"

"Rossi," he returned, watching as the nurse tried to process it, "Don't try to puzzle it out, Son. It's a long story. Once you guys make sure my little girl is going to be okay, I'll buy you a cup of coffee and explain it to you."

The younger man smiled, "Oh, I've seen stranger things, Mr. Rossi. Come on; let's get Gianna set up in Bay 4."

Fifteen minutes later, the baby had been stripped down to a diaper and covered with some sort of scratchy cotton blanket. They'd taken her temperature, her blood pressure, and a couple tubes of blood, and then walked away. Leaving them behind a curtain, in a small room, with a feverish, nearly naked baby.

He paced the room, trying to walk off the anger that was growing. What the hell were these people doing? It was called an Emergency Room, not a Waiting Room. Didn't they understand that his daughter was sick?

"David," Julie said, looking up at him from the hard office chair where she sat, cradling Gianna in her arms. "Relax."

"I can't," he returned, trying not to show the anger that was building. "They've done nothing but strip her down to her diaper, wrap her in that god awful blanket and stick her with a needle."

"They don't know what's wrong. They need to do blood work," she rationalized.

"Why hasn't a doctor come in yet?" he challenged, as if she'd know.

"The Physician's Assistant came in, the doctor will come in once they know more," she tried. "You're making me nervous with your pacing."

He stopped, taking a deep breath and releasing it. "How are you so calm?"

"I'm calm because you're not," she returned, her tone telling him just how hard it was for her to reign in those emotions. "If we both were pacing the room and losing our patience, it wouldn't make them come in here any faster, now would it?"

She was right, of course. He'd learned, since Gianna had entered their lives, that she usually was right on all matters involving the baby. It seemed as if she'd possessed some long dormant mother gene that just kicked in. Oh sure, there were moments when he could tell she doubted her actions, but for the most part, she just seemed to instinctively know what to do.

Not that he did a bad job at parenting. She assured him frequently that he had picked right up on it, but still, he found himself questioning his decisions. For years, people had touted him as an expert profiler, the top of his game. He'd written books on the dark sides of peoples' minds. He'd earned more money than he could count giving lectures and doing consultant work. Yet, in this arena, he was a novice, as green as he'd been the day he entered the Academy. It was unsettling to say the least.

He sat on the end of the exam table and willed himself to relax. "How is she?" he asked.

"She's still hot," Julie quietly reported, stroking the baby's cheek with her thumb. Gianna opened her eyes part way and looked up at her, causing Julie to smile. "Hey there, Gianna. I know you feel bad, we're going to make you better, I promise."

"Ms. DeVitto, Mr. Rossi?" began a male voice, causing them both to look up.

"I'm Dr. Nichols," the older man said, extending his hand, which Rossi shook. "I've run some tests on Gianna and we believe she has Group B Streptococcal Disease."

"Which is?" Julie asked.

"A strep infection, most likely contracted at birth. It sometimes takes months for the symptoms to show."

Rossi eyed the man with distrust, "You said you believe. You mean you don't know?"

Dr. Nichols replied calmly, "In order to make a complete diagnosis, we're going to need a sample of her spinal fluid."

"Spinal fluid?" Julie croaked.

While Dr. Nichols went on about the spinal tap, Rossi watched as Julie's calm demeanor began to crumble.

"And the spinal tap is the only way to make this diagnosis?" Rossi asked, walking to where Julie sat and placing his hand on her shoulder.

"I assure you, Mr. Rossi, I wouldn't even suggest it if it wasn't absolutely necessary. Of course, the sooner we perform the procedure, the better. We'll just need you to sign the consent forms."

Julie looked up at him, her eyes wide, revealing the fear that she'd been forcing down all night. Without saying a word, she told him that it was now his turn to be the strong one, his turn to take control of this situation. This was a role he was familiar with, being in charge. Adopting a businesslike tone, he said, "Bring me the forms. I'll sign them."

Dr. Nichols looked down at Julie and softly said, "I promise you, Ms. DeVitto, we'll take good care of your daughter." Turning his attention back to Rossi, he said, "I'll have them bring you the consent form to sign, then the OR tech will be down for her in a few minutes."

"Do we just wait here?" Julie asked, sounding like a lost child.

"They'll have her up there for about half an hour to 45 minutes. You're welcome to wait here, or if you'd prefer, you can head down to the Starbucks in the lobby. We will have you paged when they bring her back down." He offered Julie a reassuring smile and said, "Let me go get everything going."

"Thank you," Rossi nodded, barely noticing that the doctor had walked away. His eyes were glued to Julie. Watching, as she looked down at the baby, biting her bottom lip to keep herself from crying."

Crouching down to her level he spoke to her quietly. "You okay?"

Julie shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut to force back the tears.

"Hey," he said, "Look at me…"

She opened her eyes slowly.

"She's going to be okay, Sweetheart," he said, hoping to convince himself as well.

"What if…" she began, but he cut her off.

"No," he firmly said, locking her eyes with his, "She is going to be fine. They'll do this test, figure out what is wrong, and get her the medication she needs. I will not accept any other outcome."

Despite the situation, she found a small smile, "And you've got a hotline to the Big Guy upstairs, now?

"After all of those years as an altar boy, I should have some pull left," he smiled. "Now, we're going to let these people do what they need to do and in the meantime, we're going to go downstairs and have a cup of coffee, okay?"

XXXXX

Watching as Julie handed Gianna off to the nurse was heart wrenching. Despite her smile and the soothing tones she used while saying goodbye to the baby, he could feel the pain radiating from her.

Now, sitting in the Starbucks, sipping at a double chocolate frappuccino that he'd bought without even asking what she wanted. She seemed to be dealing with things a bit better.

"You haven't said a word since we got down here," he tried.

She shrugged, "I don't know what to say."

He reached across the table and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. "Not exactly the place you want to be at 4 am on a Thursday morning."

"You need to get up for work in two hours," she absently said.

"Guess I'll call Hotch around 6:30, he should be awake."

"I should probably call Penelope, too," Julie offered.

He nodded, "She'll be pissed if she hears it from Hotch first."

They sat in silence for a few moments before he said, "Roscoe's probably going to pee in the kitchen."

"If he hasn't already," she agreed.

"He was kinda confused when we left."

"Weren't we all?" she asked tiredly. She looked at him, then, without warning, her brows furrowed, her bottom lip started to tremble and then the tears started to flow.

Moving quickly, he got up out of his seat and down to his knees next to her, pulling her into his arms just as the first sob worked its way out.

Knowing there was nothing he could say to sooth her, he said nothing at all. Instead, he just held her, allowing her to cling to him and sob against his shoulder. They remained in that position long after her sobbing had stopped, holding on to each other in silence, just waiting an eternity for the page that would call them back into the ER.


End file.
